The New Squint
by medicgirl
Summary: Brennan gets a new grad student, and something's wrong with Zack. First in a long series of both serious stories and meaningless fluff. Complete for now.
1. The new kid

Author's note: This is hopefully the beginning of a very long series composed of minor stories and some pointless fluff. Updating may be sporadic. You have been warned

Disclaimer: Don't own them. Wish I did.

Temperance Brennan circled the mutilated body serenely, as if looking at a jigsaw puzzle that she was stuck on. "Not that she would ever get stuck on a jigsaw puzzle," her assistant Zack Addy thought quickly. "Unless it was all one color with really tiny pieces."

He was carefully prodding at a cut in the muscle of the chest of the nearly skinless body on the table. "Long blade on the weapon but it will take some time to determine the exact type."

Dr. Brennan nodded. "Okay. Any other observations?"

He scanned the body with his eyes, looking for anything he might have missed. "Cause of death seems to be one of the ten stab wounds to the chest and abdomen. Impossible to say which on at this time, but most likely one punctured his heart or the greater vessels. Victim was not skinned in the traditional sense. Possibly flayed?" he made a face. "Blood pooling at the surface suggests that he was alive when it happened."

"Very valid observations. Now let's get to work on an ID."

Angela and Hodgins appeared from opposite corners of the lab and began to speak at once. "I have a face to go with…that."

"I found something in that powder from the wound!"

"Ok," said Brennan. "One at a time. Angela?"

She held up the drawing of the young man, as good as she could do from the remains of the victim's face. "Ready to run through the database."

"Ok, good. Hodgins?"

"The white powder in the wounds is lime."

"Lime?" asked Angela. "As in the fertilizer? Was someone trying to get rid of the body?"

Hodgins shook his head. "Not near enough for that. And Lime doesn't get rid of bodies. That's a mistake that was made popular by horror movies and graphic novels. What it does in most cases is preserve the body even better." Realizing that he had strayed off topic, he came back to what he was saying. "It was only in the wound. That means it was on the blade. He was probably killed in a gardening shed or greenhouse."

"Ok, guys," said Cam, entering with a file folder in her hands. "We got a new kid, and I expect you all to play nice."

"New kid?" asked Zack. "You got a new grad student already?"

"Cool," said Hodgins. "Zack gets to be a big brother." The younger man made a face.

Brennan took the folder to confirm. "I got a new grad student. Casey McKnight." She looked up. "Is that a guy or a girl?"

"I get that a lot," said a very feminine voice from the ground level. "But usually it's in reference to my hair." The girl climbed the steps, running a hand through her very short red hair. "I was told to dress comfortable. I hope this is ok." She wore an olive-green t-shirt with the Black Knight from Monty Python and the Holy Grail and the saying "It's only a flesh wound!" and worn jeans. Zack swallowed hard. Even if she did have hair shorter than his, she was quite possibly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Angela, embarrassed by her friends' lack of social graces. "Hi. I'm Angela Montenegro. This is Temperance Brennan, Zack Addy, Jack Hodgins. You've met Dr. Saroyan. She nodded to each one in turn, and Casey looked at them and smiled nervously. Zack was looking everywhere but directly at her, Brennan was still looking at the file folder, and Hodgins was visibly sizing her up.

"Is it just me," said a voice coming up behind them, "or are grad students getting younger?" Seely Booth scanned his card and was up the short steps in two strides. "How old are you, kid? You don't look old enough to be out of high school!"

"She blushed, looking at the floor. "I get that a lot too. I'll be 24 in a few months."

He turned to Brennan. "So, do you have anything new?"

"We were just going over the body. Casey, why don't you take a look? Tell us what you see."

The girl forced her nervousness down. This was her job now, and she could do it, nervous or not. Putting on gloves, she stepped up to the body. "Male, between 25 and 35, stabbed and partially flayed with a very long and sharp blade."

"Like a sword!" exclaimed Zack, putting it together.

"Well, yes and no. Dr. Addy, right?" The title still startled him. No one called him that since the first day unless they were teasing him. That didn't seem to be her intention, so he nodded. She motioned for him to come forward, so he inched to the table. When he was beside her, she prodded a stab wound in the muscle with one finger. "When most people say 'sword', they're thinking of a Scottish claymore or a Roman gladiator. This cut is flat on the top, not narrowing like the bottom. I'd say a katana, the Japanese sword of the samurai. Not the first on most people's list, unless you're a Highlander fan." She turned from the remains to face Zack. "Did I pass?"

Zack frowned. "Pass?...I-"

"Yeah, kid, you passed," said Hodgins, breaking in before Zack could confess that he hadn't figured it out yet. He walked up to the two young scientists. "Zack was just saying that before you walked in."

"No I-" he started, but Hodgins elbowed him discreetly in the ribs and he shut up.

Cam was almost forgotten until she spoke up. "Dr. Brennan, maybe you could give your new assistant a tour of our facility."

"Oh," she said, the idea not occurring to her. "Sure, come with me." They left to get acquainted more than to see their workplace.

"So," said Angela. "What do you guys think?"

"She's smart," said Hodgins. "Did you see how fast she identified the wound? We hadn't got that far yet. What do you think?"

"Well, she seems sweet. She dresses like you guys, though. I think she's going to fit in fine. Zack?"

He hadn't moved, was still standing beside the body, but was staring off into space. Angela didn't think he had even blinked since his mentor and new co-worker left the room. "Zack? Hey, brain-boy! Earth to Zack!"

Finally, he turned to face them slowly, as if in a daze. His usually pale cheeks were flushed. Having his attention, Angela repeated herself. "What do you think of her?"

"I…think…uh…" he trailed off as if he caught another train of thought. "She called me Dr. Addy!"

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After the tour, Casey was given her own blue lab coat and sent back to the body. They examined it completely, Dr. Brennan taught her to take casts of the wounds, and they learned all they could from the remaining flesh. "Okay, Zack, Why don't you take Casey in the back and show her how to clean the bones."

Zack froze. "I…Uh…sure."

Casey didn't seem to notice her colleague's hesitation, and helped him roll the gurney into the back room.

Hodgins walked close to Angela. "Is he being weirder than usual?"

Angela shrugged. "It's hard to tell. He does seem a little…" she trailed off, looking for the exact word to describe the change in their odd young friend. "Off."

"Do you think he's afraid she'll take his place?"

This confused Angela. "Take his place? But she's just a student! By the time she gets her PhD, he'll have even more seniority."

Hodgins shook his head. "That's not what I meant. Family is very important to Zack, and now he's at the other end of the world." Angela opened her mouth the say that D.C. wasn't exactly the other side of the world from Michigan, but he cut her off. "His words, not mine. So we're his surrogate family. He's not worried about his job, he's worried about his place in the hierarchy!"

Angela winced. "Like a kid with a new baby sister."

Hodgins looked at the door to the room the kids went off to. "We're going to have to be careful.

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"So, do use enzymes, or do it manually?" She asked as she and Zack wheeled the body into the debreiding room. "Do we need any protective gear? What do we do with the tissue when we're done?"

Zack realized that she had the same habit he did, babbling uncontrollably when she was nervous. It was somewhat endearing, and he realized guiltily that he had done very little to alleviate those nerves. "No, nothing like that. Just get some gloves and goggles. I'll show you how we do it." He smiled to himself as he got the jar full of beetles off the shelf. "And don't worry about the leftover tissue…"

To her credit, she barely flinched when he poured the flesh-eating bugs on the corpse. Zack was impressed; He had almost been sick the first time he witnessed it. He had gotten over it quickly. So why did it feel like his stomach was crawling?

Casey was watching against the glass, fascinated by the efficient little cleaning crew. Zack moved closer to her and watched, too. After a few moments of silence, Zack felt compelled to share one of his secrets. "See that lazy one over there in the corner? That's Billy. And the one beside him is Joanne. They stay together." He trailed off, looking at his shoes. Of all the dumb things to say, he had just told the pretty new girl that he had named the flesh-eating insects. She would laugh at him now, look down on him as stupid, or even worse, give him the same look he got from everybody in high school. The one that said he was at best a freak, and at worse some kind of contagious microbe.

She surprised him by smiling. "What about that one, crawling up the glass?"

"That's Myrtle," he said. "She kinda stays off to herself. I think she's scared of crowds."

"I don't blame her," Casey replied under her breath, not intending for Zack to hear.

He did hear, however. "Me neither," he replied.

They stood there, side by side, hands on the glass, two fascinated kids watching a natural phenomena that most would find disturbing. This was how Angela found them. And it was so cute that she couldn't disturb them. Instead, she ran off to find Hodgins. And her camera.

The two older squints watched the younger ones for as long as they could stand, then Angela had to snap the picture. Of course, the flash and the sound of the camera broke the moment. Casey and Zack jumped away from the glass, and each other. "Sorry, guys. I just couldn't resist!" They looked at her with frighteningly identical expressions of uncertainty.

Hodgins nudged her, and she remembered why she came in the first place. "Uh, guys, we're going to Wong Foo's. Hope you'll come with us. Kind of a 'getting to know the new kid' thing. You in?"

"I kinda have to, don't I?" asked Casey. "Being the new kid in question. Sure, I'm in."

"Zack?" asked Hodgins.

"Um, sure."

"Great! Come on! Booth, Brennan, and Cam are waiting on us!"

Casey fell into place behind them, but Zack hesitated. His stomach felt as if the beetles were crawling around inside it, nibbling occasionally. He was slightly dizzy, feverish, and felt weak. Maybe the chicken salad he found in the break room was older than he thought. He made a mental note never to eat anything without a date on it, but maybe he was coming down with something. Flu maybe? Then he realized that he was alone, and hurried along to catch the others.

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They filed into Wong Foo's, Angela gently directing Casey to the middle. Zack scooted to the far side by Hodgins. If he was coming down with something, he would be less likely to pass it on to someone if he was on the outside, rather than surrounded by people on both sides.

Sid came out to check on them. "Hi guys. New kid?"

Brennan introduced her. "Sid, this is Casey McKnight. She's my new grad student. Casey, this is Sid. He runs this place."

"Hey, Mac. Nice to meet you. You're sure a lot prettier than her last student. No offense, Zack."

Zack was resting his chin on his hands and barely looked up. "None taken. You're merely stating a fairly obvious fact."

Sid raised an eyebrow, but let it go. "I'll go see about your food." As he walked away, he smiled as he heard verbatim what every first-timer says: "But we haven't ordered yet!"

Booth quickly explained it to her, and her eyes got very big. "But how does he do it? I'm allergic to a lot of things!"

Angela shrugged it off. "Doesn't matter. Zack's allergic to…What is it, Zack?"

"Eggs," he replied without looking up. "Which means I can't take a flu shot and stand a statistically higher chance of developing a latex allergy."

Hodgins opened his mouth to make a joke about the possible consequences of a latex allergy, but was sure he sure it would go over half the heads at the table. He made a note to tell Angela later. "Sid has never brought anything that caused a reaction in any of us. If you leave it to him, anyway." His stomach rolled at the memory of the seven-organ soup that had given him flashbacks for days.

She shrugged. "Okay. You guys still eat here, so they must not have killed anyone you know."

They were silent for a few moments, no one really sure what to say. "Look," she finally said. "I'm not really good at this whole 'people' thing. What do we do now?"

Angela was unsure how to respond to having the situation so plainly stated, but it didn't seem to phase the other squints. Booth was used to it by now. "I think you're going to be right at home here."

She looked at him. "I don't know what that means." Booth nearly choked, and the girl, Brennan, and Zack all looked at him funny. Angela and Hodgins fought hard not to laugh. Casey ignored it. "If no one else has any ideas, I have a thought."

"Okay," said Cam. "Let's hear it."

She paused, still not totally comfortable talking in front of this group of near strangers. But she knew she had to get over it. The best way was to make them not be strangers anymore. "I propose we go around the table and you each ask me one question. In return, I get to ask you each one question."

Zack sat up a little. "That's very logical," he said approvingly.

"Very logical," agreed Brennan. "A good idea."

Casey smiled. "Ok. Dr. Saroyan, why don't you start?"

Cam paused for only a second. "What do you think is going to be the most interesting aspect of this job?"

Casey answered immediately. "I'm really interested in determining cause of death and collecting evidence. I love solving the puzzle and finding the clues that prove my theories."

Cam nodded approvingly. "Good answer. Who's next?"

Booth was sitting beside her, so he went next. "What's your opinion on the war in Iraq?"

Brennan looked at him. "How is that relevant?"

"The object is to get to know her, right? That question will tell me a lot about who she is."

"Hodgins disagrees with you, what does that tell you?"

He sighed, not wanting to have this argument, certainly not wanting to have to explain how it would give him an intuitive impression of her that he would trust until proven wrong. "It tells me that Hodgins is opposed to anything he views as government control, which I already know. Now, let her answer."

She was a little uncomfortable with the disagreement, but agreed silently with Booth. The object was to get to know her. "Well, I'll keep my opinion to myself, but I will say that one of my two best friends in the world is over there now, and the other will never come home from there, and even if people don't agree with the war they should support our armed forces 110."

"I can get behind that," said Hodgins.

"Me too," said Booth. "Ok, Bones, your turn."

"Bones?" asked Casey.

"Just an annoying nickname he insists on using," she said. "So what made you choose this line of work?"

Casey wondered how to phrase this, especially in front of Booth. He was essentially a cop. "I want to make sure the bad guys go to jail. What we do is so important. The cops can do the best job in the world, everything by the book, but if the technicians screw up the whole case gets thrown out and the bad guys go free. I want to be one of those. I want to make the case."

"A very accurate description. Good answer." Brennan was pleased with the grip on reality that her new student had. Most people didn't understand the pressure that they were constantly under. If she knew that already, things would be much easier.

Their food came then, and Casey was delighted with her grilled chicken strips, cheese fries, and chocolate shake. They all dug into their food. It was Angela's turn.

"I noticed the necklace you're wearing. What's the significance of it?"

She fingered the silver cross around her neck. "Well, it's silver 'cause I'm allergic to gold. It breaks me out. And this symbol is called a Maltese cross. It's the symbol for firefighters. And the cross behind it signifies that God is behind what I do."

"You're a firefighter?" Angela asked. "Oh, sorry, I already used my question, didn't I?"

"That's ok, that's why we're doing this. To give us stuff to talk about. Yeah, I'm a firefighter, EMT, and level 1 Haz-mat technician. I was on my fire department back in Tennessee for six years. I was next in line for a captain's spot when I moved here. Hey, is there a volunteer department around here or are they all paid?"

"They're mostly paid," said Booth, "but I'll call around and see who has volunteer spots if you want."

"Yeah, that would be great! I know I wouldn't have time for a paid position, but I'd love to get back in it. So, who's next?"

"Me," said Hodgins. "What's your theory on the Kennedy Assassination?"

"How much time do we have?" she answered with a smile.

Hodgins grinned. "We'll talk later. Too many people around."

"Definitely!"

"You are going to fit in here," said Angela. "Zack, your turn."

Zack sat all the way up. "What does your family think about what you do?"

She looked down briefly, composing herself for the answer. "I don't have anybody," she finally answered flatly. "Ok, my turn. Dr. Saroyan, how was I chosen for this spot?"

After a pause, Cam answered. "You're grades were a big part of it, 4.0 in six years at Vanderbilt is impressive. Also, your application essay was brilliant." Naïve, but brilliant. She didn't want to say that out loud, but that was a definite part of her choice. She didn't want someone completely jaded and cynical. They were hard to teach.

"Thank you," said Casey, blushing slightly. "Agent Booth, what branch of the military did you serve in?"

"What? How did you know I…Army. Rangers, to be specific."

She smiled. "Rangers lead the way." He still looked confused. "You can just tell." He still was unsure, but he let it go.

"Dr. Brennan, how do you come up with the ideas for your books? They're incredible! Do you really do all those things? Will I?"

Brennan laughed. "You realize that's actually three questions? Well, I've done most of those things, and I guess if you want to, you can too."

The girl smiled. "That's exactly what I want to do!"

Booth rolled his eyes, and thought "Just what I need, two squints following me around. At least Zack was happy staying in the lab!"

That got it around to Angela. "Dr. Brennan said you make most of your jewelry. Do you think you could teach me?"

Taking in the girl's clothes and lack of make-up, the question surprised her. "Yeah, absolutely."

"Dr. Hodgins, what's your theory on spontaneous human combustion?"

His blue eyes sparkled with excitement. "How much time do we have?" he asked, echoing her answer. "And please, call me Jack."

She turned to Zack, who had been looking at her but quickly looked away. He looked nervous. "Dr. Addy, what's your favorite song?"

He was a little confused by the question. "My favorite song?"

"Yeah. Surely you have a song you like. I love music. What kind do you like?"

He ducked his head, embarrassed. "Uh, well…I guess "Superman" by Five for Fighting."

"Really?" asked Hodgins. "Didn't see that coming."

"Hey," said Casey. "That's a good song! Good choice."

"Thanks," said Zack, his usual monotone voice sounding tired.

"Hey, Zack, you okay?" Angela asked. "You've hardly touched your fries."

He shrugged. "I don't feel well. Maybe I'm coming down with something. Could someone give me a ride home?"

"You look flushed," said Angela, reaching around Hodgins to feel his forehead. "Doesn't feel like you have a fever."

"I can give you a ride," Casey volunteered.

"No!" exclaimed Hodgins. "I mean, I'm going that way. C'mon, Zack."

The younger man stood up slowly, holding onto the table as if dizzy. He steadied himself, then stood back for his friend to get up. Hodgins bid them a farewell, Zack waved weakly, and they were gone.

Casey looked down at her plate. "He doesn't like me very much, does he?"


	2. Allergic to what?

Note & Disclaimer: I don't own these guys. Only in my mind. This chapter isn't what it started out to be, but I hope it turned out okay. A bit more angsty than the last, but…what can I say? Nothing brings people together like a near-death experience. Please review.

"I brought coffee for everybody!" Angela exclaimed with way too much enthusiasm for six-thirty in the morning. She sat down two drink carriers down on the table without human remains on it. What are you guys working on? Have you been here all night?"

"You could have called us if we had a new case," added Hodgins, coming up behind her.

"Nothing you could do until this morning. A couple of teenagers found a pile of bones on the shore of the lake yesterday evening. Booth brought them straight here. Me, Casey and Zach have been working on them ever since. Casey, are you finished with that hand yet?"

"Almost," she said, "just having trouble with these last few."

"You've been at it for over two hours!" Brennan exploded. Casey cringed back, and looked like she was going to cry.

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "But there's something weird about these."

Brennan looked over her student's shoulder at the two bones in her hands, then took them from her. The girl slid from her stool and let Brennan sit down. She fidgeted with her fingers, and Angela was about to intervene on her behalf when Dr. Brennan spoke. "Casey-"

"I'm sorry, Dr. Brennan! I tried, but-"

"No, Casey, I'm sorry! I see the problem. This certainly isn't your fault. In fact, how in the world did you even recognize them as phalanges?"

The girl was still reeling from the earlier criticism. "I- huh?"

"These five bones have been severely corroded. Like someone left them in acid or something." She stood up. "Hodgins!"

He appeared almost out of nowhere. "You beckoned?"

Still holding the two bones she had taken from Casey, she rushed up to him. "These are two of the last finger bones in this victim's right hand. These and the other three are corroded. Check them out, see if you can find out what was used on them."

Without being asked, Casey gathered the other three bones in question and gave them to Hodgins as well. Angela smiled as she watched the girl, crushed moments ago scramble to get back on even footing. She knew by now that after the sting of Dr. Brennan's words faded, she would work that much harder to be the best. Casey went back to the table and began sorting through the pile of bones, looking for the other hand to see if it had the same deformity. Angela sat one of the cups of coffee in front of her. "Here. It'll put you back in the game."

Casey looked at the green cup, and shook her head. "Thanks, but I can't. I'm allergic to caffeine."

"Caffeine?!"

"Yup. I'm allergic to everything! Kinda sucks." Casey grinned.

"I'd say! What all are you allergic to?"

"It's quite a list." She ticked them off on her fingers. "Acetaminophen, naproxen, aspartame, seafood, Lysol, Tilex, that scrubbing bubbles stuff, Gain detergent, a dozen different lotions and skin products, and most make-up."

"Wow! You are allergic to everything. Good thing you have good skin." Angela walked away to find Brennan again.

Casey was quiet for a moment, then said after her, "Hey, wait! I have good skin?"

She was alone for several moments before Dr. Brennan and Angela came back. "I found the pieces of the left hand, Dr. Brennan."

"Okay. Sort out the last bone of the fingers and give them to Hodgins." Casey set about the task without another word.

"Is it morning already?"

Angela smiled as a tired-looking Zach climbed up the steps to the platform. "Yeah, the sun is almost up. Coffee?" The young doctor grabbed eagerly at the cup, and spilled a little bit on his hand. He yelped, the blushed, embarrassed.

"Ok," said Angela. "You guys have been here for almost twenty-four hours. You have done so much. Go home and get some sleep!"

Dr. Brennan thought it over. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I'll go home for a few hours. You two, too."

"Um, if it's ok with you, Dr. Brennan, I think I'll stick around. I fought with that hand for hours, and I want to see what had me stumped." Casey was still smarting from Dr. Brennan's angry words, apology or not.

"That wasn't your fault, Casey. I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"It's ok. I'm really not that tired. I'm not ready to call it quits for tonight…today, I mean."

Dr. Brennan was impressed with her new apprentice's work ethic. She decided to offer a reward for it. "Well, while you wait, maybe you could take a crack at reassembling the skull?" She tossed out the offer casually, as if asking if she wanted to order a pizza.

The girl's eyes widened. "My first skull reconstruction?"

"Already?!" exclaimed Zach. He tried to classify what he felt. Was he jealous? It had taken him much longer to get to that. No, he wasn't that shallow, was he? Pride, maybe? Because he had helped her some? Or maybe he was just happy for her. He didn't know, and that bothered him. His stomach once again rolled alarmingly. Why the Hell wouldn't it settle down? It had been almost three weeks, so he wasn't coming down with something. Maybe he was allergic to something around the lab.

Dr. Brennan interrupted his thoughts. "Zach, you can go home too."

It sounded like a good idea, but something wouldn't let him. Something nagging at the back of his mind that he couldn't identify. "Dr. Brennan, Casey might need some help. I'll stick around a little longer if you don't mind. And if Casey doesn't mind."

Dr. Brennan looked at him, trying to figure out why he felt the need to stay. But psychology wasn't her thing, and she knew he must have his reasons. "Sure. If you two are sure you're okay to work."

"I'm fine," both Casey and Zach said in a perfect unison that caused them to glance at each other and smile.

"Ok," she said. "I'll be back in a few hours. Call me if you need anything." She disappeared into her office to get her purse.

Zach looked at his younger colleague. "I'll be in the office over there when you're ready to start on the skull. But I won't bother you if you don't need me. I'm not trying to steal your moment."

"Thanks, Dr. Addy," she said with a tired smile.

"And…uh…you can call me Zach. I mean, if you want to."

"Ok, Zach," she said, trying it out. "I'll be there as soon as I get these bones to Hodgins." He walked away, wondering what had come over him to say those things. What kind of example was he setting for her. Did she think he was saying she couldn't do the skull herself? He hoped she wasn't offended. She didn't seem offended, but she was tired, and sometimes people had to think about things before they were offended by them. He wished he was better with people.

Casey began gathering up the bones hurriedly, when Angela stepped in. "I'm heading that way anyway. Just put them in a glove or something." She could touch bones when she had to, but preferred not to when it could be avoided. "I'll take them to Jack."

She wrapped the five little bones in a piece of cloth she had been using to clean them. "Here. Thanks." Then she gathered the pieces of the skull into a plastic tub, excited.

Angela smiled. "Good luck with your skull!" Casey smiled as she followed Zach. "Never thought I'd hear myself say that," Angela added to herself as she watched the young girl go.

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"So then, even as tired as he was, Zach insisted on staying to help her with the skull. What does that sound to you like?"

Hodgins winced. "Do you really think he's pushing himself like that to gain brownie points with Dr. Brennan? That's not like him."

"I know, but you should have seen the look on his face when Bren gave her the skull job. You know how long it took him to get to do it alone."

"What are we going to do?" he asked. "If they start a rivalry, we'll lose one of them."

"Talk to him," Angela said.

"And say what? I know she's brilliant and sweet and funny, but we still love you too?" he replied sarcastically.

"Well, yeah. Or the version less likely to send him into a diabetic coma."

Hodgins sighed. "You're right. I'll come up with something. We'll talk after lunch. You just get Casey away so she doesn't overhear. I don't want to hurt her feelings."

"Or turn her against Zach."

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Casey sat down in front of the pieces of the skull, and pulled out her iPod. As she was untangling her headphones, Zach spoke up. "Just a casual observation, but Dr. Brennan doesn't like us to listen to music while we work."

"I already discussed it with her," she stated, putting in the ear buds. "It helps me to focus." Zach shrugged, and made his way to the back of the room. He intended to keep his word; he was only there to help if she needed it. He wouldn't hover, make her nervous, or otherwise indicate that he lacked faith in her. Unless he already had, just by being there, in which case he definitely had to stay out of her way. He picked up a rag and can of Lysol to clean the back table.

She hummed along with her iPod, not realizing that she was doing so out loud. She was completely engrossed in the job in front of her, not even aware that Zach was watching her carefully. He recognized the song. It was by a country duo called Montgomery Gentry. The song was called "Hell Yeah". A smile slowly crept onto his face as he watched her. There was something about her, even after over twenty-four hours without sleep or a shower she was still pretty. She was also very good at her job. He silently cheered as she found the place for a very small piece. She was-

He hadn't realized how sweaty his hands had become, and the can of Lysol fell from his hand. When it hit the floor, it started spraying, and jammed on. He dropped to his knees to try to stop it. By the time he fixed it, and stood back up, he noticed she had stopped humming. It didn't take his genius IQ for him to know something was wrong. The iPod fell from her lap to the floor, and she was clutching her throat. A choked gasping sound escaped her throat. Immediately suspecting a biological contaminant that had somehow missed the scanner, he hit the manual containment button.

She was struggling to pull in the tiniest bit of air, as she turned to Zach, eyes pleading for help. The alarm sounded, the room locked down, and her already frightened eyes got even wider. Zach jerked on a mask, and pulled one down for her. "Casey, are you okay? It's going to be alright! They'll find whatever the contaminant is and get us out of here. It's OK."

She tried to step toward him, but fell to her knees. He raced forward to catch her before she hit the ground, her face taking on an alarming bluish tint. "Come on, Casey! Hang on! Breath!" He lowered them both to the floor, cradling her head in his lap. "Somebody help! We need a medical team in here! Help!" Then he turned his attention back to the girl. "You're going to be okay. They're going to get us out." She struggled in his lap, and he tried to adjust her so she could get a breath in. He put what he hoped was a reassuring hand on her forehead.

Cam, Angela, and Hodgins came running as soon as the alarm sounded, and saw the two youngest members of the crew there on the floor. Cam was immediately on the computer, checking as the back-up sensors searched for a toxin that had caused the girl's symptoms. Angela and Hodgins could only watch in horror, seeing the panic in Casey's eyes, and the fear and horror in Zach's. Hodgins saw what was about to happen before it did.

Zach let out a little cry of fear when Casey stopped struggling. Her hands fell from her throat as she went unconscious. He shook her, a little at first, then harder. "No, Casey! Come on, breath! Don't do this!" Tears filled his brown eyes as he turned to his friends. "She's not breathing! Help her!"

Angela sucked in a shaky breath, feeling a little short of breath herself. "How much longer on the scanners?" Hodgins asked Cam.

"Three minutes," she said grimly.

She knew it already, but he said it anyway. "She'll be dead by then!"

Zach really wished he hadn't read their lips. It was a useful talent most of the time, but now he wished he didn't know what they had said. There was no hope. This girl was going to die in his arms. She was going to suffocate to death. He knew, rationally, that she was already past pain, and wouldn't know anything more, but that didn't make it any easier to just sit and watch her die. Tears streamed down his face. He couldn't just sit here and watch her die.

And there was a way! He knew it was a bad idea, he knew that if he survived, he would be fired. He knew that he could very well be putting the others in the position of watching not one, but two co-workers, two _friends_ die, but he had to try. Couldn't just let her die. He pulled off his mask and lowered his mouth to hers.

"Zach, no!" exclaimed Angela in horror. He was exposing himself to whatever was killing her. She watched, beating on the glass helplessly as the man she was worried about being jealous risked his own life to breath for the girl.

"Come on!" Hodgins yelled. "Can't that thing go any faster? We have to get them out!"

"I know," Cam replied. "But we have to make sure that whatever hit them doesn't get out."

Angela's eyes wandered for a split second away from the pair on the floor, and she saw the culprit. The Lysol can, still laying on its side, where Zach had left it when Casey collapsed. "Cam, there's no toxin! She's having an allergic reaction! See, nothing's happening to Zach! We have to get her out!"

Zach continued to force as much air as he could into her lungs, waiting for his own airway to constrict. Maybe by the time it hit him, they would be almost out. The haz-mat team would be here soon, and maybe they could survive. Casey still wasn't breathing, but her pulse was strong and bounding. He was doing it! He was actually keeping her alive! Why wasn't he having trouble breathing?

Three beeps signified the end of the scan, and the doors flew open. Hodgins got to them first. "The ambulance will be here any second! You're fine, Zach. There's no toxin, she's having an allergic reaction. We have to get her out of here. Want me to take over?"

Zach gave her another breath. "I got her." He picked her up and they ran out of the room. Cam ran ahead and got a rolling table. She met the others. "Here, put her on here."

Zach put the girl on the table. "She's still not breathing! Where's the ambulance?!"

"Keep breathing for her," said Hodgins. "Get up there with her."

Zach looked at him, confused. "Huh?"

"It'll be easier than running beside her. Now, get up there if you are going to keep breathing for her!" He didn't need further convincing, so he climbed up on the table and knelt beside her.

"GO!"

The ambulance was pulling up when they got her outside, and the paramedics swarmed around her. They loaded her into the ambulance, and looked back at the rest of them. "Anyone coming with her?"

Looking around at the others, Zach took a step forward. "I'll go with her."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Zach was the first person Casey asked for when she woke up, but he had disappeared. Angela stayed with her in the ER while Hodgins went to look for him. Finally, after checking the cafeteria, snack room, and waiting room, he found the young man shaking in the men's room floor. He had been throwing up, and the events of the morning had obviously caught up with him. With only a moments thought to hygiene, Hodgins slid down the wall to sit beside him. "She's okay now. Breathing, talking, oxygen saturation up to 96. You saved her. It was a stupid thing to do, and if there was a toxin, we could have lost you both, but she's okay." The younger man looked up, pale and shaky, into his friend's eyes.

"Lysol. I'm the one who did this to her! I'm not her hero, I almost killed her! And if I hadn't broken protocol and she had died, I couldn't live with myself. I could have killed her!"

"But you did. And she's fine. She asked about you."

"Really?" he asked. "I-" he started to get up, but sat back down hard. "Can I talk to you? Man to man?"

Hodgins looked uncertain. "Dude, you've been through a lot, but if this is going to lead into something about sexual positions…"

Zach shook his head. "No, nothing like that. I just-"

"What the Hell are you two doing hiding in here?" demanded a voice from the door. Hodgins looked up at it's source.

"Booth? What are you doing here?"

"I was with Bones when Angela called. We came as soon as we could. Zach, generally when you try to kill people, you don't do rescue breathing. It defeats the purpose!"

Zach hung his head, and Hodgins glared at Booth. "Not funny. Also not the time! He feels bad enough!"

Booth winced. "Sorry, kid. I guess I didn't think. I just-"

Zach stood up abruptly. "It doesn't matter. She asked for me, and I'm hiding in here. I should go." Then he grabbed his stomach. "I'll meet you there," he amended.

Hodgins steered Booth outside as they heard retching. "Give him a break. He's beating himself up about it enough. He doesn't need your help."


	3. Family

Disclaimer: I thought they were mine for a little while. Then I woke up.

Author's note: This chapter wasn't planned, it just felt right. I hoped to give some insight into Casey's character. Keep the feedback coming, It helps shape the story.

Cam was the first one to spot Zach in the hallway walking toward Casey's room. Booth and Hodgins had been back almost twenty minutes. She grabbed Booth's sleeve and pulled him away from the door. Booth put a hand on his shoulder before he went in. "You okay, kid?" Zach paused only a moment before nodding. "She's fine," Booth added.

Ha swallowed hard, and entered the room. Angela and Hodgins were leaning against the wall, while Brennan was trying to convince Casey that the skull could wait until tomorrow. She was losing the battle, as the girl was picking at the mass amount of tape securing her IV. There wasn't a doubt in anyone's mind that as soon as she got it loose, she intended to flee. It was lucky that the paramedic that started it was a firm believer in tape. There were still several layers to go.

Angela caught Zach's eye, and motioned for him to come forward, which he did, albeit reluctantly. Casey and Brennan looked up at him, Brennan with relief, Casey with a hint of a smile. Hodgins smiled, glad that the younger man had gotten up the courage to see her. He wished they had taken time to have that talk, but Booth had bad timing. Oh, well. He still had to drive him home.

"I think I'll go get some coffee," said Angela. "Who's with me?"

Catching on, Brennan stood up. "I'm in." The two women started toward the door before realizing Hodgins hadn't moved. "Jack, we're going to get coffee."

"No, thanks. I'll just wait."

"Okay," said Angela. "We're going to vacate the room and give these two a chance to talk."

"Yeah, I got that. I plan to stay and eavesdrop." Angela swiftly grabbed him by the collar and proceeded to drag him out the door. "Well, on second thought, coffee sounds good." They were gone seconds later.

Zach sat down in the horribly uncomfortable chair by the bed. He had no earthly idea what to say. 'Sorry I almost killed you?' His mouth usually went off on its own with little guidance from his brain, and he was determined not to let that happen.

She was still fixated on the IV tape, but her efforts were slowing, as if she was focusing on it only to avoid looking at him. That didn't help his discomfort. Finally, he couldn't take the silence anymore. "What did the doctor say?"

She finally met his eyes. "He said you saved my life. That if you hadn't breathed for me, I'd be dead. And Jack said you took off your mask to do it, even though you thought there was a potential toxin in the room." She seemed almost confused. "You risked your life to save me?"

"I guess so," he said. "But I'm the one who almost killed you, so that seems like it would cancel out any gratitude you should have."

Now she really looked confused. "What do you mean? Zach, you didn't know what you were doing! And that's my fault. I never told you."

She looked deep in his brown eyes and saw the pain there, saw how much he was torturing himself over this accident. "It's my fault," she said, suddenly fascinated with the pulse oximeter probe on her finger. "I should have made sure everyone knew what I was allergic to. I just told Angela this morning. If I hadn't…" She didn't need to say it; they both knew that if Angela hadn't known about the Lysol, she would have died while the paramedics were figuring out how to treat her.

Zach flinched slightly at what she didn't say. "Well, I haven't exactly made it easy for you to tell me things. I guess I've been sort of a jerk. I don't really have an excuse, but I've not been feeling well lately. I guess its just stress, although I should be able to deal with stress better by now since there's so much of it in our jobs and-" He cut off abruptly as she breathed too sharply and grabbed her upper chest with a small moan. "Are you okay? What happened? Are you having another reaction? I'll get a doctor!" He started to get up, but she grabbed his hand before he could go.

"No, wait. I'm fine. Just a little sore. That state puts a lot of stress on muscles that people don't use all that much and now my chest hurts. I'm fine. Sit back down, please." He did, quickly and a little shakily as the flood of adrenaline receded. "I…well…" she looked back up at him, and tried again. "Please don't think any less of me over this. You guys weren't supposed to see me this way."

"Don't think…huh?" Of all the things he had expected her to say, that was not on the list. "Why would I think less of you? See you what way? I don't understand!"

She blushed, not really sure how to explain it to him. How could she explain her off-kilter way of blocking off the pieces of herself that she didn't deem good enough to share with others, or even acknowledge herself? The parts of her she had to ignore when she created her own self-image. The parts that were weak or broken. Finally, she settled for a statement that only confused him more. "I'm stronger than this."

He sat up, and leaned over her, taking her hand. "Casey, I know I don't know you as well as I should by now, but nobody sees you as weak. Do you think I'm weak because I regurgitate for hours if I have an omelet? If anything, it makes you stronger that you're fighting a battle against your own body. Autoimmune dysfunctions are hard to fight. But you are fighting. How does that make you weak?"

Casey made a face. "It's still embarrassing."

"Why? Why is it embarrassing?"

"Because, it's losing control of a major bodily function. It's no different than pissing in your pants." Zach almost laughed at that, but discretion prevented him from it.

"I can see your point, but it's not that bad. Nobody sees you as weak."

She smiled. "Thanks."

"Really. They're just worried about you. I am too."

"Don't be. I don't break. I just want to get out of here." Meeting his eyes again, she said, "But thanks for saving me."

He turned even redder than she had, but it felt good. His smile widened. He couldn't believe he got to be the one to give this speech this time. He only hoped he could do it as well as Booth or Hodgins could have. "Casey, this team is a family. We're all in this together. We've seen each other at our best, and at our worst. We all get sick, we all get hurt, but we're there for each other. Let us be there for you. We'll all need you some time."

"Family…" she said, "I think I could do that. "Of course, it helps that the 'family' includes my own personal Saint Florian."

Zach scanned through him photographic memory. "Saint Florian, patron saint and protector of firefighters." The thought warmed him. He wished he had Hodgins' confidence. Then he could have come back with something cool, like "Glad to have the job," or something like that. But he just wasn't like that. "I'm no saint," he said, looking her directly in the eye. "But I won't underestimate you anymore. I'm sorry I haven't been as friendly as I could have been, but I'd like us to be friends."

"I'd like that too," she said. "Maybe-"

She was cut off as the doctor entered the room. "Ms. McKnight, I think you're doing well. I'd still like to keep you overnight-" she opened her mouth to protest, but the doctor stopped her. "But, I've already spoken to your friends, and you, and came to the conclusion that it wasn't going to happen. So, I'm going to send you home with an epi-pen, and tell you to be sure to keep it with you. Have you been shown how to use it?"

"Yeah, I had one before," she said, accepting the small box. She handed it to Zach. "Here, would you put this in my jacket pocket?"

He took it and slipped it into the pocket of her lab coat as the doctor continued. "Just let me get that IV out, and you can get dressed."

"Too late," she said. "I already got it." She raised her left hand, still holding the edge of her gown on the site to slow the bleeding. Zach looked surprised. When the hell had she done that?!

He stepped outside so she could get dressed. The others were standing around, trying to pretend they weren't waiting to hear about what was said. "The doctor's releasing her. She managed to get the IV out," he added with a smirk.

Hodgins pulled him aside. "So, are you okay?"

He shrugged. "As okay as I could be after nearly killing a friend."

Hodgins noticed he said friend, rather than co-worker. "So, I guess you two are okay, too?"

Zach smiled. "Yes, we are."

"So, maybe we could have the talk you wanted on the way home."

"Yes, that would be good, but I sort of volunteered us to give her a ride home." He braced himself for Hodgins to get irritated that he had offered his services without consulting him first, but he simply agreed.

"No problem."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Angela led the girl to her friend's tiny car, and smiled as she noticed Zach getting in the back seat without even being told. It said a lot, considering he usually refused to cram even his small frame into that "cargo space" as he called it. This gave her something to think about. Maybe she had misjudged Zach's recent behavior. Maybe…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Guys, my car's at the lab," Casey told them. "You don't have to take me all the way home. Just get me there, and I can make it from there."

"No way are we taking you to the lab!" Hodgins stated firmly. "Not a chance!"

"Why not?" asked Zach. "If that's where she wants to go…"

Hodgins rolled his eyes. "Zach, if you were in her position, what would you do after we dropped you off?"

"Go inside and finish the skull," he said thoughtfully. "Is that what you were going to do?"

She let her head fall back against the seat. "Ok, you caught me. But I need to do that."

"But Dr. Brennan said-"

"Not for Dr. Brennan, Zach, for me! You understand, right?"

Her eyes pled with his, and he knew what he had to do. "Drop us off at the lab."

"What?!" exclaimed Hodgins. "I knew she had lost her mind, but I still had some hope for you! You two have been up for two days, spent ten hours in the emergency room, one of you nearly died, the other could have…You guys aren't going to listen to me, are you?"

"No," they both said in that creepy unison they seemed to have a knack for.

Hodgins sighed. "I guess I'll stay too, in case you two get into trouble."

"You don't have to," said Casey. "I can bring Zach home when we're finished."

"That's okay," he said, glancing at Zach in the rearview mirror, hoping the young man would keep his mouth shut. He just wasn't ready to explain his house yet.

He pulled up to the front entrance to drop off his passengers. "I'll park the car and be right in. I still need to find out what happened to those fingers." Casey got out quickly, leaving Zach to struggle his way out of the back seat. He flashed Hodgins a grateful smile as he finally extricated himself. Hodgins knew better than to say it, knew it was a bad idea, but he also knew it was coming out one way or another. "Hey, Zach!" The young scientist turned around, and looked back. "Try not to kill her this time!"


	4. The talk

Disclaimer: Not mine, wish they were

Author's note: I know this is a little shorter than the last 3 chapters, but that was just the perfect place to end it. I hope to update again soon, nut I start a new job tomorrow, so if I can't I apologize.

"Come on, Zach! If you're not ready in thirty seconds, you're walking home!" Hodgins yelled, and winced as it echoed through the empty lab. It was well after midnight, and Casey had left over an hour ago. After reconstructing the skull she had waited on his findings on the acid used in the fingers, then made a list of sources for Dr. Brennan and taped it to her office door. She bid farewell to them both, and left. It seemed that Zach had been scrambling around nearly frantic over busywork ever since. Hodgins had been patient, he knew it had been a stressful day for the young man, but enough was enough! He would like to get some sleep at some point. At least when they signed out so late they wouldn't be required to be back at 8 am.

Zach appeared in front of him in a split second. "Okay. I guess I'm ready. We should go. You need sleep."

Hodgins looked at him like he had lost his mind, and herded him out the door. "I need sleep? What about you? When did you sleep last?"

Zach tilted his head to the side slightly. "That depends. What day is it?"

"Tuesday. No, actually, as of thirty-five minutes ago, Wednesday."

"Sunday night. But only for about three hours. I've been having trouble sleeping lately, but I think I'm starting to get used to it." Great, Zach was one of those rare individuals who reacted to sleep deprivation with more energy, rather than fatigue.

Somehow, Hodgins managed to get him into the Mini-Cooper, but it was like having a bat in a Mason jar. He couldn't seem to sit still, and squirmed constantly. He fiddled with the door handle, and kept unbuckling and rebuckling his seat belt.

Finally, Hodgins couldn't take it anymore, and tried to engage him in conversation. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

Zach was quiet for so long, Hodgins thought he hadn't heard him, and was about to repeat himself. Then he spoke, and it took an incredible amount of concentration to pick out the individual words. "I really think we should wait until we get home, I don't think I can do it in here, there's not enough room in here to move around and I'm sure what I have to say is going to involve a large amount of talking with my hands, and probably a fair amount of pacing and…" He stopped and looked at Hodgins. "Is this how people feel when they say they need a drink? I don't drink very often, but I think I need a drink!"

"Well, then," said Hodgins, "I guess we should go to the main house."

"So, what'll it be?" asked Hodgins. "Beer, or something stronger?"

Zach hesitated. "I think I better go with something stronger."

He poured his friend a small amount of Jack Daniels, then handed it to him and sat down on the leather sofa to watch him pace. "So, spill it. I mean, say whatever's on your mind." He knew Zach wasn't good with metaphors, and this carpet was expensive. He wasn't sure if Zach understood or not, because the young man turned up the shot glass and downed it quickly. He gagged, choked, then righted himself again. "That tastes terrible!" He offered the glass back to Hodgins. "Do you have more?"

Becoming more concerned, he poured another shot, which Zach sipped at, more like himself. Finally, he flopped onto the other couch. "Something's wrong with me," he blurted out. "I'm not sleeping more than four hours a night, having strange dreams, first I'm hot, then I'm chilled, my stomach rejects everything I put in it. I've tried to just ignore it but it's been worse today…yesterday…whenever than it's ever been since it started. I don't know what to do! It started when Casey showed up, and its worse whenever she's around. Maybe there's something about her that-"

Hodgins looked at him, eyes wide enough to fall out of their sockets. "Are you saying that you…?

"I don't know what I'm saying!" Zach exclaimed, frusterated. "All I know is how I feel, and that's very non-specific! I don't understand it, and I can't translate it! That's why I came to you!" He was really yelling now, almost a month of keeping it to himself exploding with the stress of the days events. Little Zachary Addy was actually yelling. Hodgins didn't think he even knew how. He stood up and began pacing again.

For his part, Hodgins sat there, contemplating, putting two and two and two together. The way the boy's insanely large vocabulary often failed him whenever Casey was around, the starry-eyed look he had gotten the first day when she had called him 'Dr. Addy', the fact that he had actually risked his life for her earlier. "Oh, Geez!" he exclaimed. Zach, you are a genius! You graduated college at sixteen for crying out loud! You can't possibly be that clueless!"

Zach stopped in mid-stride, downed the rest of his shot, and headed unsteadily back to the couch. "I don't know what that means," he said. He was remarkably sober for someone who rarely drank. The alcohol hadn't even seemed to take the edge off. "I guess that means I am that clueless."

Hodgins sighed. Why did he have to be the one to have this talk with him? This was what fathers were for! And it should have happened ten years ago. "I think I need a drink, too." He poured himself a shot, finished it off, poured another and refilled Zach's. "Zach, haven't you ever been in love before?"


	5. Fight club

Author's note: I don't usually make such glaring errors, but somehow I forgot that in this timeframe Angela and Hodgins were already together. So, sorry. I'm trying to fix it, but I still needed him to be alone with Zach for a while. And since we're ignoreing some rules, lets pretend Zach never got that ridiculous haircut. Enjoy!

"To another case solved, and another bad guy behind bars!" exclaimed Angela, raising her glass of frozen red stuff. No one was really sure what it was, and no one really wanted to know.

The remaining squints and Booth raised glasses, beer bottles, and in Casey and Zach's case, water cups. This was a celebration for the solving of the most recent murder. The guy had thought to cover his tracks by putting his victim's fingers in hydrochloric acid to erase fingerprints. Little did he know it would soak into the bones and lead this crack team right to him.

Angela had badgered them all into going out for drinks, despite the fact that Casey said she didn't drink, and Zach stating flatly that his head still felt like it was full of broken glass and that he would never drink again. Of course, the night before had ended with him talking about his situation until he passed out. Between the two of them, they had put away a fifth of whiskey, and though he wasn't sure how much of it was his doing, he knew it was way too much. He had woken up at almost ten on the couch he had been sitting on with a blanket over him. Hodgins had gone to bed at some point, and Zach smiled at the fact that, even though he tried to be such a hard-ass, Hodgins had still covered him up before going to bed.

Casey, however, had been back in the lab at seven-thirty and started calling acid distributors. The third call had been a hit, leading to a suspect, and soon to an arrest. She was thrilled. Absolutely on cloud nine. This was what she wanted so much, and she had actually made a difference. Of course, Zach would have made the same discovery had she not been there, but even he needed a day to slow down.

As soon as Angela had suggested going out to the Roadhouse, the newest country music bar, she had been onboard. When everyone had agreed to go, she had rushed off to change, followed by Angela, and Dr. Brennan. The guys just looked at them funny and went on to the bar. The girls were a little later, but the wait was definitely worth it. Angela looked fabulous, as always, as did Dr. Brennan, but Casey was astonishing.

Ever since she started, she had dressed like the guys. Her favorite jeans were white, with several holes worn in them, and a variety of oversized t-shirts had hidden to all of them what was an extremely attractive female figure. Every jaw at the table hit the ground when she walked in wearing a tight black denim dress and cowboy boots. Hodgins thought that they would have to call an ambulance for Zach, but even Booth was impressed. Angela just smiled. Only she and Casey knew that she had helped pick out that dress, just in case the occasion presented its self. Casey might not be comfortable dressing up all the time, but that didn't mean she couldn't make up for it when she did.

She sat down at the table, blushing as she noticed them all staring at her. "What?" she asked. "Just because I'm one of the guys most of the time, I can't be a girl occasionally?"

Booth was the first to recover. "Kid, let me say on behalf of myself and the two here that are still trying to breathe, we'll not forget that you're a girl. Ever!"

She turned even darker. "Ok, I'm a girl. Can we move on?"

Brennan noticed her discomfort, and changed the subject. After a few minutes, Casey remembered that this was her little group, and began to feel more comfortable. Angela and Hodgins were getting a head start on being rather drunk, Brennan was drinking just enough to loosen up a little, and Booth was drinking enough to be social. Someone had to baby-sit the drunk scientists, and he was sure the junior squints just weren't up to the job.

Casey was enjoying the music, and as might happen to an attractive young woman in a bar, a guy asked her to dance. He was handsome, and she hadn't had a better offer, so she accepted. Angela was still out dancing with some guy, and Booth finally asked Brennan to dance. She accepted, and that left Hodgins and Zach alone at the table.

Zach was staring down, memorizing the wood grain of the table. He couldn't even look up at Casey. He couldn't watch her dancing with that other guy. Now that he knew what he was feeling, it made more sense, but it also opened him to the painful side. Like this, watching the woman he loved in the arms of someone else. He knew it happened, and that Booth had gone through it when Dr. Brennan was with Sully, and was thankful that it wasn't Hodgins with her out there. It was bad enough with a stranger, he couldn't imagine if it were his best friend.

Hodgins knew what was going through the boy's mind. "Why don't you ask her to dance?"

Zach made a face. "I can't dance."

"Oh, come on! It's the two-step! Watch for a minute, then you'll be able to do it. It's all about counting, and I know you can count."

"But what if she says no?"

"What if she says yes? Then you can tell her how you feel."

Zach shook his head violently. "No! I'm not ready, I have to think it through some more and figure out the way most likely to make her understand without scaring her and-"

"Then just dance with her, man."

He didn't reply, but did look up at her. His gut clenched as he watched the man in a cowboy hat's hand inch further and further down her back, and he grinned to himself when she reached around and slapped the wandering hand. Finally, mercifully, the song ended, and all the girls plus Booth sat back down. Angela scooted her red drink toward Casey. "Come on, lighten up. It's ok to relax now. Have a drink."

The girl shook her head. "I don't drink. I've seen too many bad things happen when people aren't fully in control." Her eyes went dark suddenly, as if a shadow passed over them, then it was gone. "Besides, it's a lot of fun to be the sober one among a bunch of drunk people. You can mess with them." She grinned.

Another song started, a slow one by John Michael Montgomery called "Hold on to Me". Casey jumped up. "I love this song! Zach, come dance with me!"

Zach hid panic mode, looking very much like Wyle E. Coyote watching the anvil fall toward him. "I-I-I don't dance!" he stammered. "I-"

"Ok," said Casey, disappointed. She went back onto the floor, and found the cowboy she had been dancing with. The others soon followed.

"Are you insane?!" Hodgins demanded. "There was your chance!"

"I know," Said Zach pitifully. "I just panicked. I didn't even know what I was saying." Hodgins almost laughed. Zach looked very much like a kid that just missed the ice cream truck.

"Then go," he advised the young man.

"What?! Now? But she's dancing with him and I don't know what to say, or where to put my hands, or even how to move or-"

"Calm down. Breathe, and just listen. First, you go up to her, tap her on the shoulder, and say "Can I cut in?". Put your hands where his are, but a little higher. Show her that you respect her. Then just led her lead." It was obvious that he was repeating those words in his head, trying to plan a few steps ahead, so Hodgins interrupted. "Stop thinking, Zach! Feel! Just go do it!"

He took in a deep breath. "Okay. I will." Hoping to exude a confidence he didn't have, he stood up as straight as he could, and walked around the edge of the dance floor to where Casey and the cowboy were dancing. He came up behind her, and his mind when blank. What was he supposed to say? What the Hell was he doing?! This was insane! What was he going to-

"What the Hell are you looking at, Shrimp?" the cowboy demanded, stepping back from Casey.

"I-uh-well-"

"I asked him to dance earlier. I guess he decided to take me up on that offer," said Casey, her eyes lighting up. She stepped away from the cowboy toward Zach, and he was about to put his hands where Hodgins said he should when the cowboy grabbed Casey's arm.

"Ain't no way you're going to walk away from me for this little piss ant!" His fingers dug into her bicep hard, tight enough that it would bruise by morning. He shook her a little. "He your boyfriend or something? I could snap him like a twig!"

Casey jerked her arm away with surprising force. "So what if he is? He's a hell of a lot better looking than your boyfriend!"

"Uh, guys?" said Angela uncertainly. The song had ended, and everybody was looking at Casey, Zach, and the cowboy. "This can't be good."

Booth started to stand up, but Brennan stopped him. "Wait. Let's see what happens."

He looked at her like she was insane. "This isn't some anthropological study! This is Zach and Casey, and they are about to get their asses kicked!"

"I want to see if Zach will fight for her," she stated flatly, and Booth sat back down reluctantly. But he stayed on the edge, ready to jump in at the first sign that things were getting out of control.

Unfortunately, there were no warnings or degrees of out of control. Things were tense, they had gone to hell. The cowboy took offense to Casey's insinuation that he had a boyfriend, and drew back a hand and smacked her across the face. For the first time in his life, Zach's emotion overtook his reasoning, and he launched himself at the much larger man. Cowboy's friend saw this, swung a barstool and hit the scientist across the back. Zach crumpled to the floor, and Casey grabbed a beer bottle in each hand and slammed them down on the second man's head. He rolled to the floor, and Cowboy grabbed her as his friend picked Zach up by the front of his shirt.

Casey was pissed. These bastards attacked her and they hurt Zach. In a split second, she pulled a switchblade and had it to Cowboy's throat. Everybody in the bar froze. Hodgins spit his beer back on the table. "Mother of God, she's got a knife!"

Casey paid them no mind. She was concerned with three people at the moment. "I'll kill him if I have to!" she exclaimed. "If you don't want to wash your friend's blood off your shoes, you'll put MY friend back on his feet and let him walk away."

It's never that easy. "You first," the other man said.

"Are you blind, or just stupid? I have the weapon, I call the shots!"

The guy was at least 6'6", and shook Zach like a rag doll. "Is that so? Do you realize I could snap his neck before you could cut his throat?"

Booth appeared out of nowhere. "Casey, why the hell do you have a switchblade? Those are illegal!"

She didn't take her eyes off the man who was threatening Zach. "Firefighter, Booth. Not illegal for me."

He tried again. "You and your buddy really want to leave here and brag that you beat up a girl and a scientist?"

"Piss off, bub. This isn't your concern."

"Why do we have to do things the hard way?" He drew his gun. "FBI, everybody freeze!"

No response. Casey's eyes never left the man who held Zach, who was afraid to even breathe. It would take less than a second for his attacker to break his neck. Cowboy was similarly frozen, a razor-sharp three-inch blade pressing into the skin over his jugular. And this chick was crazy, she would do it!

The remaining squints gathered behind Booth, also afraid to breathe. "Casey," said Booth, trying to remain as calm as he could, "Put the knife down."

"I don't think so, Booth. As soon as I do, Zach is dead."

He turned to the other two. "Put him down."

"Hell no! I put him down, that chick'll cut his throat anyway, just because she's pissed!"

Booth took in a deep breath. Great, just great. Why were these squints so damn unpredictable? He thought Bones was the one he needed to watch. At least she had never pulled a switchblade in a crowded bar! "Casey, if he promises to put Zach down, will you put the knife away? I have a gun now, I'll protect Zach."

"I don't think so."

He decided to try a new tactic, as bad an idea as it seemed. "Casey, put the knife down! Don't make me shoot you!"

Zach's eyes got even wider. "Don't shoot her! This is my fault!"

Brennan came up beside him. "You aren't really going to shoot my grad student, are you?" he looked at her, pleading for her to shut up. She didn't take the hint. "No, Zach, he not going to shoot her."

"He's going to have to," said Casey in a dead cold voice. "If he doesn't put Zach down, that's the only way he's getting my knife. Nobody lays a hand on me, and absolutely NOBODY hurts my friends!" Her grip on the knife tightened, and Cowboy let out a whimper.

"Just let him go, man! It's not worth it!" He was getting really scared. The girl was willing to get shot before she'd back down? Not the type he wanted to mess with anymore.

"What do you want, Casey?" Booth asked in his best hostage-negotiator voice. "What will it take for you to put let that guy go?"

"Not a lot," she said, voice still cold enough to freeze whiskey. "He's puts Zach down, Hodgins, Dr. Brennan, and Angela walk him to the door, and I let this guy go."

"Okay," said Booth. He turned to the other guy. "Does that work for you? If she doesn't let him go after you let this kid go, I will shoot her. Okay?" The guy nodded. "Zach?" The terrified young man nodded vigorously. "Casey, I'm sorry, but I'm going to turn the gun to you now. Don't move until Zach is safe."

"I won't she said. Just make sure he doesn't get hurt any worse."

He pointed the pistol at her, wishing to God he didn't have to, and said "Now put him down."

The man very carefully lowered Zach to the ground, even dusted off his sleeve where he had fallen. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he scrambled away from the fray. Angela checked over his wounds on the way toward the door. Dr. Brennan hesitated to go, but a look from Booth silenced her objections. When they had reached the door, He said to Casey. "Okay, kid, your turn."

Quickly as it had appeared, another button made the blade disappear, and Casey stepped away from Cowboy. She held the knife out to Booth, who was putting his gun away. He took the knife, and then she held out her wrists, palms up. "What, you expect me to literally slap you on the wrist?"

She looked at him, confused. "I had a hostage, Booth. You have to arrest me."

Booth winced, he didn't want to do that, but she was right. He had to. He took out his cuffs. "Behind, you, kid."

She obediently turned around and put her hands behind her. Booth hesitated, but Casey said, "Just get on with it, Booth! I understand."

Zach watched this with horror, surpassing the horror of the earlier standoff. He knew something Booth didn't. He couldn't just stand there. This had all happened to her because of his indecisiveness, his stupidity. "Booth, wait! It's not her fault. Arrest me instead. I did attack that guy. But you saw him hit her!" Zach wanted to do something; he couldn't let her go to jail over this. He was trying to stand up and be a man, but tears were threatening to overflow his eyes and run down his bloody cheeks. "Dr. Brennan," he pled, "Can't you do something?"

She thought for a second, as Casey looked at Zach, touched. "That's so sweet, Zach. But you were just trying to protect me." She turned to Booth with a heart-breaking look on her face. "Can I have just a second before you cuff me?" He nodded, still sick that it had to be done. She walked over to Zach, and gently touched the tender flesh that was already swelling and would turn out to be a brilliant black eye by morning. "My own personal Saint Florian, just like I said. I'm sorry you got hurt over me. But I don't regret what I did. I'm done letting people I care about suffer for what I do. Go home, put some ice on that eye, and a heating pad on your back. Did he hurt you very bad?"

His back felt like, well, like someone had broken a barstool over it, and if he pulled his shirt up it would probably reveal the beginnings of a spectacular sunset of bruises, but there was no way he'd let her know that. "I'm fine," he said, wishing he could do something, anything to fix this. He even wished he could say the three words in his mind, but he knew now wasn't the time. It would just hurt her more. "I just wish I could have protected you," he added softly.

"I'm fine, too," she said. "But I have to go now. Jack, take him home and take care of him. He may have a concussion, and his back is going to hurt pretty badly. Make sure he's okay for me?"

Hodgins nodded. "I'll take good care of him. You just be careful yourself." He also felt sick at the turn the evening had taken, but at least they all survived. He led Zach out the door, not wanting him to see the girl get handcuffed, and Angela followed quickly.

She went back to Booth, put her hands behind her back. He put the cuffs on, and looked around for Brennan. She ran up to him and said "Those two guys are gone. I looked for them to see if they wanted to press charges, but they ran off. If there's no one to press charges, do you still have to take her in? We don't even know their names!"

Booth gritted his teeth. There were too many witnesses not to arrest her, but that didn't mean she actually had to go to the police station. "Alright, you punk!" he said loudly, praying Casey would know what he was doing. He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder to soften the blow of his words. "You're under arrest for assault with a deadly weapon, terroristic threatening, and disorderly conduct! I'm gonna personally lock your ass up! Come on!"

This display, along with him trying to look like he was being rough with her without actually being rough pacified the crowd that had been riled up by all the excitement, as he took both of them to his car. "I'm sorry, kid," he muttered in Casey's ear before roughly shoving her into the backseat of his SUV. He motioned for Brennan to get back there with her, and got up front. When they had driven away from the bar, he tossed Brennan the handcuff key. "Unlock her," he said.

Dr. Brennan did as instructed, and Casey rubbed the feeling back into her hands, confused. "I'm not going to jail?"

"No," said Booth. "The men you attacked ran off without giving a statement, so right now there are no charges against you. That doesn't mean that they won't go to the police in the morning and swear out a warrant. What the hell were you thinking?!"

"Booth!" exclaimed Brennan. "The guy hit her, he could have killed Zach! Do you know how much damage a blow to the back like that could have done? I think what she did was justified!

"Justified, maybe. Legal, no. Casey, are you okay?"

"Where are we going, then? I mean, if I'm not going to jail?"

Booth almost smiled, but he was too exhausted. "Well, if I'm right, there are three squints at the Hodgins residence that would like to see you in one piece minus the bracelets. And quite honestly, so Zach doesn't hate me. Do you know how dangerous it can be to have a genius forensic anthropologist/engineer pissed of at you? He could have a million ways to kill me before morning."

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"What is the purpose of using meat on a black eye?" Zach asked as he sat, sans shirt on Hodgins' couch holding a steak to his eye. Angela was carefully checking his back for broken ribs, but no matter how gentle she was, it still hurt and he couldn't help squirming a little.

"Jack, I can't do this! I'm hurting him!"

Zach winced, even her removing her hands hurt. "You're not hurting me. A barstool across my back hurt me. You're just reminding me!" Angela stopped to think about that for a split second and burst out laughing. It was just such a logical statement that made no sense in the context of tonight's events.

"Here, I'll do it," said Hodgins, kneeling on the couch beside Zach. "Brace yourself, buddy. I'll do it quick." Zach bit on his shirt sleeve as his friend pushed his fingers into each individual rib, checking for movement. Finding none, he stood up. "Okay, all done. Now, off to find some Tylenol."

"And an ice pack," Angela called after him as he left the room.

Zach was still holding the steak on his eye, finally removing it. "Casey's allergic to Tylenol," he stated. "What's she going to do?"

Angela had no answer to that one. At least, not one the younger man would like. What she wanted to say was that Casey probably had bigger problems than being allergic to painkillers. "Wait right here, Zach, I'll be back in a minute."

She went to join Hodgins in the kitchen. "What should we do?" she asked, laying her head on his shoulder.

He put his arm around her. "I'll give it an hour or so, then go down there. They should have set bail by then, and I'll go bail her out. Then I'll bring her back here. I think Zach would want to see her when she gets out."

"Yeah," she agreed. "So he's really got it bad for her, huh?"

"Yeah. He's absolutely nuts about her. But after tonight…"

Angela frowned. "What? You don't think he'll run to her and blurt out how he feels after all this like a normal person? She held a hostage for him! There will never be a better time to profess his love!"

Hodgins shrugged. "I don't think he'll see it that way."

"Why not?"

"Well, weird as he can be, he's still a guy, Angela. He still feels like he failed somehow tonight. Some anthropological thing about protecting the woman and alpha male stuff, and I don't know, it's just a guy thing. I'm afraid it may push him back into his shell."

She turned to peek into the living room at him. He was still on the couch, slouched over holding the steak to his eye, and his head in his hands. "You're right. This sucks."

He was facing the other direction, but she could hear the smile in his voice. "Maybe not as bad as we think…"

"What are you talking about?" she asked, then turned and saw what he was looking at. The security camera showed Booth's SUV pulling up at the gate.

"There are three people in that car!" Hodgins said. "Go in there with Zach. I'll meet them at the door."

He opened the door just seconds before Booth could ring the bell. He took in the sight of the girl standing there, Booth and Brennan behind her like parents, and couldn't keep the smile off his face. "What happened?" he asked.

"Well, you know," said Booth. "No complaining witness, no case. I'd rather she didn't stay alone tonight. You know, in case one of those guys followed her and wanted revenge or something."

"And she wanted to see Zach," Brennan added unnecessarily.

Casey was still silent, and it was rather disconcerting, considering the side of her they had just seen. But maybe when she saw that Zach was okay, she would perk up. "Here," said Hodgins. "Bathroom is this way. Let's get the blood off of you before Zach sees you."

She nodded, and let herself be led to the bathroom. Once there, she cleaned the blood off and stared at the newly forming bruises. It made her sick, and the memories she thought she had left behind came flooding back. Tears that had not been there seconds ago fell, and the picture was complete. Why did having a family have to result in this?

"No!" she whispered fiercely. "It's not the same! Not the same! They care about me! It's not the same!"

A knock at the door brought her out of her thoughts. "Casey? Are you okay?"

In a split-second, it was gone. The sickness the past brought to her heart, the pain remembering caused. She was here, now, and these people cared about her. And she needed to see Zach. He was hurt. He needed her. "I'm coming!" she called back. Washing the tears off her face, she looked like herself again, bruises notwithstanding. She exited the bathroom with a smile. "So, where's Zach?"


	6. After the fight

The first thing Hodgins noticed was that Zach still didn't have his shirt on. That was bad. Casey didn't need to see the mess his back was right now, but it was too late. Booth led the way, with Casey beside him, an arm protectively around her shoulders. Zach heard footsteps, and looked up. Registering who the visitors were, his mouth fell slack for a moment, then he realized what Hodgins already knew and scrambled to pull the t-shirt over his head. It caused him considerable pain, but he couldn't let her see the damage that had been done. Then he stood up. "Casey?"

She pulled away from Booth and ran to him. Carefully, she put her hands on his shoulders. "Are you okay?"

"I was just about to ask you the same thing," he said, so relieved to see her. "But how? Booth?"

The FBI agent shrugged. "Professional courtesy."

"But you hate…squints," Zach said, Booth's word for them feeling strange to say.

"Not the point, Zach."

He shrugged, for the first time not really caring about the how or why. He put his arms around her and pulled her close. She carefully laid her head on his shoulder. The rest of the crew watched, warmed, and Booth nudged Brennan. He nodded toward the door, and she followed. They waved goodbye to Hodgins and Angela, and left.

Booth settled himself into the drivers seat, and was more comfortable now that Brennan was riding shotgun again. "What a night!" he said, flopping his head back against the headrest.

"Yeah," agreed Brennan. "Thankfully, it turned out ok."

"You call this okay?" Booth asked incredulously. "Casey had a hostage, Zach probably won't be able to walk when he wakes up, I could technically lose my badge over what I just did. Man, you have the weirdest grad students!"

Brennan grinned. "It was very interesting. Casey's behavior was slightly unexpected."

Booth shook his head. "How much did you have to drink?" She started to answer. "Never mind, I don't want to know." He put the SUV in gear and headed down the driveway. "Why can't we ever just have a nice, peaceful night out?"

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Zach held Casey for a long time. He was so relieved to know that she was safe! As bad as his back and head hurt, nothing had hurt as bad as knowing that she was going to jail for trying to protect him. Just the thought of her in there, trapped, cold, and alone felt like a punch to the gut. Finally, she pulled back and looked up at him. She was smiling, and it was enough to bring a smile to his face. "You're really okay? Don't lie to me," she said.

"A little sore," he replied.

"Turn around," she said. "I want to see your back."

A look of fear crossed his face, and she misread it. "I won't touch it, I just want to see how bad it is."

"How about we don't?" asked Zach. "You don't really want to see. Lets sit down." He led her to the couch.

She sat down, but wouldn't let it go. "Please, Zach. I need to see how bad it is."

If she only knew how defenseless he was against her… He turned his back to her. "You'll have to pull my shirt up. Moving my arms backward hurts."

Casey tentatively raised his shirt to his shoulders, and gasped at the sight. Only an hour after the fight, the bruising was extensive. Four distinctly darker streaks indicated where the leg of the barstool hit. These were webbed with lighter bruises from the rungs between the legs. All in all, everything from the bottom of his shoulder blades to the waist of his jeans was covered. She sucked in a breath, and Zach pulled away. "I knew you didn't need to see that!" His shirt feel half-way back down, and he had to try to pull it back down. He froze as the pain reaching back caused hit him hard.

Casey noticed, and quickly adjusted his shirt. "I'm sorry. I should have just let it go. I just…needed to see. Because if I didn't-"

Zach understood. "If you didn't, your imagination would fill in the details and probably make it much worse than it actually is and make you worry even more."

She nodded. "Yeah. Left to my imagination, you'd be paralyzed by morning." She looked away from him. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?" he asked, honestly confused. "You probably saved my life. I just have this innate ability to get into trouble. I don't understand why, but things have a tendancy to go very wrong whenever I'm involved. I'm the one who should have apologized. If I had waited until the next song, or even accepted your invitation in the first place then that guy would never felt that I was a threat to his image and wouldn't have…" he swallowed, "wouldn't have hit you."

She shook her head. "It's my fault. And you got hurt."

"I thought you were going to jail," he said. "And that worried me. I've worked on several bodies that come out of jails, and I know they're supposed to be safe, but I also know that they're not, and if something bad happened to you because of me, I'd…I'd probably lose my mind."

He paused for so long, Casey thought he was finished. "Zach, I want you to know-"

He started at the same time, "I need to tell you-" he stopped. "You go first."

She smiled a sad smile. "Zach, you're the best friend I've ever had. I want you to know that, and how much it means to me. I've been alone for a long time, it feels good for someone to care about me. I know they all care but…You're different. And that means the world to me. Whatever you feel like you did wrong tonight, nobody's going to hurt you and get away with it. You try to protect me, but I'm going to try to protect you too. Now, what were you going to say?"

Zach wasn't at all sure now. For all his lack of social knowledge, he had seen enough TV to know that the feelings she had just expressed were not on the level of his. Now was definitely not the time. "Uh, just that I feel the same about you. You're my best friend too." Content that she was safe and he was comfortable, she leaned against his chest, and was soon asleep.

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Hodgins and Angela sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. "Man," he muttered. "He was so close to telling her. Now he may never tell her!"

"I just don't understand men!" Angela replied. "All he had to do was say that his feelings for her are stronger than that! She was receptive, I just don't think she knew how to say more than she did."

"It's not that easy!" Hodgins insisted. "Once you're their best friend, you have a responsibility not to screw that up. And if they don't feel the same way, telling them you love them definitely counts as screwing it up! That's part of the reason Booth won't tell Brennan how he feels!"

Angela contemplated that for a moment. "Yeah, we know that. But Does Zach know that? He's kinda clueless, you know."

Hodgins laughed. "Boy, do I ever know!"

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Zach looked down at the sleeping girl and ignored the pain moving his arm caused long enough to put his arm around her. She didn't stir, so he shifted a little, trying to get more comfortable. He replayed her earlier statements. Her best friend. That wasn't exactly what he wanted, but maybe he could live with that. It meant so much to her, she almost seemed awed by that. He could understand, he hadn't had many friends either. Had never had a close friend until he joined this team. He remembered what she had told them that first day at the diner. She had one close friend in Iraq and one that had died there. He couldn't imagine that. Hodgins and Dr. Brennan had almost died in that car when they were buried, and he knew how he felt thinking they were dead when the timer ran out, but thinking it was one thing. Knowing, and going to the funeral and seeing a casket and a gravestone was something totally different.

He knew he was something special to her now. Did he dare risk a sure place in her life for a chance at being more? What if he scared her, and she didn't want anything to do with him? No, he had to keep his feeling to himself for now. Maybe her feelings would change, or something. For now, he thought he could deal with this best friend thing. Maybe he could actually be good at it. And maybe he could even convince his heart…


	7. What can go wrong

Note: A Stokes Basket is a tool used to rescue injured people from high-angle situations and on occasion remove bodies from said situations.

Disclaimer: I don't own them. This goes for this and all other chapters.

Zach woke up, more than slightly confused. Why was he asleep on Hodgins' couch again, sitting up this time? Why did his head hurt so bad? He looked down and saw Casey, stretched out on the couch, head resting on his thigh. What was…? He couldn't even form the question for that. Then he saw the black/purple handprint on her arm, and the whole night came crashing back. He remembered the fight, the pain, his fear for Casey going to jail, his joy when she had showed up here, safe. He remembered being on the verge of telling her how he felt when she told him he was her best friend. And now she was asleep in his lap. He grinned, trying to restrain his…feelings. It was clear that the 'best friends' thing was going to be…difficult.

Then he tried to move his back, and the grin vanished quickly!

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It was a week before Zach could pull a T-shirt over his head without unbearable pain. No one commented on the button-up shirts he wore to work after the three days Dr. Brennan had given him off. Nothing much had changed around the lab. Without a new case after the last three weeks, they were working on the dozens of unidentified bodies in the backlog.

"Looks like the cause of death was a knife wound to the throat," Casey stated to Cam. "This nick in the fourth cervical vertebrae indicates that there was a lot of force behind a very sharp blade. I'll have Angela run some scenarios." She straightened up and popped her neck. "How long has this guy been in Limbo?"

Cam rolled her eyes and looked up. "Zach!"

He looked up from another skeleton. "Yes, Dr. Saroyan?"

"I've asked you repeatedly no to call the backlog 'Limbo'. Now you've got Casey doing it!"

Zach smirked, and said innocently. "I'm very sorry, Dr. Saroyan. I'll never do it again, and I'll see to it that she doesn't either."

Casey fought back a giggle, and mouthed "I'm sorry" to Zach. He grinned and waved it off.

Turning back to Cam, she said, "So, how many bodies are there in Limbo?"

Cam thought about repeating herself, but didn't see the point. Zach shot Casey a look that he meant to look angry, but failed.

They heard the beep of another card being scanned, and looked around to see Booth hopping up on the platform. "Hey Bones, squints, Rocky. What's up?"

Casey grinned at the new nickname she had heard from first Hodgins, then Angela, then Cam, and she thought it had faded away, but then, they hadn't seen Booth in a while. She had been worried something bad had happened to him over letting her go, so at the end of the first week, she had made Dr. Brennan call him to make sure. Hopefully he wasn't mad at her.

"Hey," said Hodgins. "How come they get nicknames, and we don't?"

Booth looked at him strangely. "Okay, bug-guy, you got it. Now, I come bearing gifts."

Brennan spoke up. "We have a case?"

"You got it. Bones, you, Zack, and Rambo here pack up your stuff. We're going to have to go to the scene on this one."

"Field work?" exclaimed Casey, almost jumping up and down with excitement.

Zach was a little more wary. "Why aren't you just bringing us the body? Usually, you and Dr. Brennan go to the scene and the rest of us wait here. I rarely went with her, and now you need all three of us?"

"Well," said Booth, "the kid wants to get out in the world." No one was buying that, not even Casey. "I've missed the junior squints." Still not buying it. He sighed. "It's a long story, I'll explain in the car."

"Casey, go get the equipment out of the back."

She started off before the sentence was out of Brennan's mouth, but Booth caught her shoulder before she disappeared. "Not so fast. Got something else for you."

She actually winced. "Not an arrest warrant, is it?"

He shook his head. "I think you'll be pleased with this." He handed her a small white box that said Motorola in blue letters.

She tore the end open and her face lit up as she took out a grey device and stared at it. "Booth, a fire pager?! You got me on a department?!" She threw her arms around a very surprised Booth. "That's great! Will you take me in and introduce me to them? Hey, wait, how did you get me on without them even meeting me?"

He shrugged. "Chief owed me a favor. And you needed a way to take out some of your aggression. I figured busting out windows with an axe would be a good way." He grinned at her, proud that such a simple thing could make her so happy. "Sure, I'll take you by the District 6 station after we get done."

She ran off to get the equipment. Booth met Zach's smile. Seems he had made two squints happy. Man, how could the girl not realize how bad Zach had it for her?

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"Let's see if I've got this straight," said Brennan. "The water in this town smells terrible, and is testing positive for organic matter? What makes them think it's human?"

Booth pulled a piece of paper out of the inside of his suit coat with one hand, steering the SUV with the other, and handed it to his partner. "This boy has been missing for a few weeks, and that's why we're here. To find out for sure. It's a little difficult to get into the water tower. I sincerely doubt that a raccoon got in there."

"Then how would a teenage boy get in there?" asked Zach.

"There have been sediments turning up that shouldn't have been able to get in the tower. It's possible that the outside of the tank has been breached," said Casey, looking over the file.

"But if there's a hole in the water tower, wouldn't these people know it?" said Booth. "I mean, water pouring out would be a definite clue."

"Well," said Casey, "chances are that the water tower isn't completely full, and if the hole is near the top there would be no way to know without actually being up there."

They pulled up in front of a high water tank, blocked off by police tape. "This is it," said Booth. "End of the line, everybody out."

The FBI agent and three scientists got out of the SUV. Casey opened the back hatch. "That's gonna be a fun climb."

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Booth wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his t-shirt. Before making the climb, he had left both his suit jacket and dress shirt in his vehicle. He was very careful to watch where he put his feet. The very top of the tower was only slightly rounded, giving them a little room to move, but it was enough to make them all nervous.

All except Casey. She seemed to be having the time of her life. Zach had told her three times to be careful, Booth had told her twice, and Brennan had even told her once. She had found the hole immediately, tapping around it to see how far back the structural integrity was compromised, then marked the unsafe area with chalk. It was roughly a third of the top of the tank. Prior to their arrival, the tank had been drained, and a crew was currently trying to get the access hatch on the side opened. Finally, they gave up.

"Sorry, guys." They called up to Booth. "It's corroded shut."

"So, what does that mean?" Booth shouted back. "How do we get in?"

The guy below shrugged. "Beats me."

"Same way our victim got in?" suggested Casey.

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"Funny," the girl remarked. "I don't recall volunteering!" She was secured into a climbing harness secured to a rope. "I mean, you're the big, bad FBI agent. Why don't you go?"

Booth shrugged casually. "I'd be useless down there. Gotta be someone with scientific credentials, and I need Bones up here with me. That leaves you and Zach. You want to make him rappel into an empty water tower after a body? You're certainly lighter, and the more athletic of the two."

Casey looked at Zach, and they seemed to be communicating with their eyes. Finally, she shook her head. "No, I'll go."

"Good girl," said Booth, putting a helmet with a light on her head and fastening the chin strap. He tapped the helmet lightly, and walked away.

"Zach, Come here!" Casey said before they started to lower her down. He leaned close, and she whispered in his ear.

"Okay," he said seriously. "I will. Be careful." Just like Booth, he tapped her helmet and walked away. Booth had done it as what seemed like a sign of encouragement, so it seemed like the thing to do.

Booth and the sheriff lowered her down as Zach inspected the pulley rig they were using. Satisfied that it was stable and strong enough to hold her weight, he stepped back and let the stronger men do their jobs. Dr. Brennan stood beside him. "What did she say?" she asked her assistant. "She told me to check over the equipment. Which I did, and it looks structurally sound."

"She was running around here like she was on amphetamines twenty minutes ago, now she's worried about the structural stability of the equipment?"

Zach shrugged, and told his mentor the truth. "She's not bothered by heights, but she's claustrophobic. She could handle falling from here with less fear than she could being stuck in there."

"Oh," she replied.

The radio buzzed as Casey started talking from inside. "There's definitely a body, and it's definitely human. Most likely male, although that's more from the clothes than anything else. I can't do much more from in here, it's in too bad a shape. Send down a body bag and the Stokes basket and I'll get it ready to come up."

"Can you get it by yourself, or should I push Zach in the hole?" Booth asked.

"That's ok," Casey replied wryly. "I can manage."

"Is that going to be your new way to get her to go along with whatever you say? Make threats toward Zach?" asked Brennan. "Isn't that a little…mean?"

Booth shrugged. "Maybe. Okay, yeah, but it's fun. And she's tough, she can take it." Brennan was still looking at him with that look that clearly said that he hadn't made his case yet. "She knows I'm kidding."

"Okay," her staticky voice came over the radio. "Scene's photographed, body's packed up and in the basket. Toss the end of another rope down here, and I'll fix it so you can pull it up."

"Why don't you just use yours?" Booth asked. "We'll throw it back."

"Lets just get her another one," said Zach.

"You want to climb down the million steps on that ladder to get another one?" Asked Booth.

Zach looked down the ladder. "It's only 164 rungs. And I guess, if I need to."

Booth sighed. "No, we have another one. But we'll still have to unhook hers from the pulley rig."

"But-"

"Zach, what aren't you telling me? You aren't just being a worried big brother, are you? 'Cause that would be really irritating!"

"Booth, give him a break!" demanded Brennan, exasperated. "Casey's claustrophobic! She doesn't want to give up her only way out!"

"What's going on?" asked Casey "Are you guys still there? You didn't leave me here, did you?"

'Shit,' Booth thought. "Why didn't someone say something sooner?"

"I just found out," said Brennan.

"She didn't want me to tell anyone," said Zach. "She thought it would…I don't know…look weak or something."

"IS ANYONE THERE?" Casey demanded through the radio.

"Yeah, right here!" answered Booth. "Casey, listen to me, here's what we're going to do. I'm going to throw you down another rope, and you fix it on the basket. I'm going to have to unhook your rope from the pulley, but Zach will tie it to the top of the ladder until I can get the body out. Then we'll get you out, okay?"

"Yeah," she said. "Zach?"

Booth handed him the radio. "I'm here."

"I told you not to tell them!"

Zach turned red. He was in trouble when she got out, he knew it. "I'm sorry. I told Dr. Brennan, because she asked me a direct question and you know I can't lie well, especially to her, then she told Booth."

The sheriff turned to Booth. "Did he even take a breath during that?"

"Geniuses," said Booth. "They've surpassed the need for oxygen."

The sheriff wasn't sure what that meant, so he shut up.

"It's okay, Zach. Just get on with it."

Booth tossed the end of the second rope into the hole, and quickly untied Casey's rope. Brennan saw him, and said, "Shouldn't you wait until she's done and knows what you're doing?"

Booth shrugged. "Just sparing her the fear of knowing her line is untied. She'll ask, and we'll say its already done. Then she doesn't have to worry about it."

Zach smiled as Booth handed him the rope. "That's a good idea."

"I'd accept that as a compliment if you didn't sound so surprised!"

Just then there was a violent crash as the area surrounding the hole caved in, taking the rig with it. It was followed closely by a scream as dilapidated metal crashed down around Casey.

"Casey? Casey, are you there?" Booth asked urgently into the radio.

Zach's heart sank almost to his feet as he scrambled to the edge of the newer, larger hole. "Casey!" he yelled, not bothering with the radio.

"I'm okay," she said, coughing at the metal flakes and rust rose into a cloud around her. "And the body is safe."

"Who cares about the body? Are you hurt?!"

"No," she said. "Well, maybe a little bumped around, but generally ok. Radio's shot, though." She paused, and then finished, trying not to sound like a scared little kid. "It's going to be hard to get us out now, isn't it?"

Zach had no idea what to say, how to comfort her. Then he realized he was still holding her rope. He turned back to Booth. "I've got her rope. Can we get her out?"

Booth took stock of the people he had on top of the tower, then knelt beside Zach around the edge of the hole. "Casey, here's what we're going to do. By some act of God, we already unhooked your line before we lost the rig. So we still have your rope. We're going to try to pull you up. Can you finish tying the other one on the body? Bring the other end up with you, and once you're safe, we'll pull it up. Got it?" Zach looked at him gratefully.

"Okay," said Casey. "It's tied. I'm ready."

Booth stood up. "Gonna need all of you," he said, looking around him. Zach handed him part of the rope behind him. Brennan got a hold behind Booth, and the sheriff got behind her.

"Hey, how sharp is the edge of the hole?" Zach asked.

"Too late to care, Zach," said Booth. "Pull!" They pulled hard, and in a matter of moments, Casey grabbed hold of the edge and helped them pull her up. Wordlessly, she hands the second rope to Zach and climbs shakily down the ladder to the lower level of the tower.

As badly as Zach wanted to go after her, he knows he can't leave until the body is up. It's a lot heavier than Casey, it was even before it bloated and absorbed water, and they needed him. It was a struggle, though, and as they were pulling it up, Casey realized that they were in trouble, and climbed back up to the top. Without a word, she slipped around in front of Zach and pulled hard on the rope. In no time, they had the corpse up on the top. Still pale, and a little shaky, Casey asked something they all should have figured out sooner. "So, how in the Hell are we going to get this down from here?"

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Casey tried to act normal on the way back to the lab, as Booth spent the whole drive complaining about having the body in the back of his SUV. Due to a little confusion, the other FBI unit on the scene was a Ford Focus, and way too small to haul a body in. And since he had to take a carload of squints back to the Jeffersonian anyway…

Zach, meanwhile, was in agony. Casey was barely speaking to anyone, and he was sure she was pissed at him for spilling her secret. He had kept it to himself when Booth was going to take her to jail, why couldn't he have kept his mouth shut today? Unable to just sit still, he reached between the front seats and turned on the radio. He quickly tuned it to a country station, and sat back. The song was called "If You're Going Through Hell" by a man named Rodney Adkins. He knew Casey had it on her iPod, and she managed a smile for him.

"Excuse me," said Booth. "Did I say you could touch my radio?"

"Why do you complain so much?" Brennan asked. "I mean, I know you love this song. You're just upset that Zach thought to turn the radio on and you didn't. Are you going to start urinating on the tires before we get in?"

"If I thought it would do any good!" he stated. "Is this even my car anymore? Zach's setting the radio, there's a corpse in the cargo space, maybe I SHOULD piss on the tires!"

Casey covered a giggle, and met Zach's pitiful look with a smile. She just couldn't stay mad at him.

He sighed and sat back, content. His stomach stopped turning somersaults in his abdomen.


	8. Firefighter

A/N: I apologize for the gratuitous fluff at the beginning of this! It's three in the morning, and this plot bunny just crawled out from under the bed and attacked me! I promise it will get more serious in the next chapter. And thanks to Robin Siskin for the notes on how to spell Zack. If it's like that on Eric Millegan's script, then it shall be. I was going by the Fox website, but as often as they get the quotes messed up...Oh well. Enjoy.

Zack was a few moments behind Casey going into the storage locker. She had carried all the equipment out, but she was still a little shaken by the events and planned to make two trips putting it away. After she left with the first load, he got the rest and followed. He would give her a better apology, and see what he could do to make amends.

As he pushed the door open with his shoulder, he looked around for her. Seeing no sign of her, he sat down the duffle bag containing the protective clothing and other gear, he looked around. He had seen her go in, and hadn't seen her leave, so that meant she had to be here somewhere.

"Casey?" he called softly. "Where are you?" No answer, so he resorted to one of Hodgins' tactics. "Hey, Rambo, where are you?" Still no answer. He was starting to get concerned. Was she that pissed at him, and didn't want to talk to him? Or was she that upset about what happened, and didn't want to talk to anyone?

He walked past a support post, and leaned on it for a moment. "Casey, I just want to tell you I'm sorry." Suddenly, both his wrists were grabbed and secured behind the post with a soft cloth. This confused and alarmed him, and he started to cry out, but a hand gently covered his mouth.

Casey stepped up beside him. "It's only me. If I uncover your mouth, are you going to freak out?" Confused (and slightly aroused, in a part of him he was trying mightily to ignore), but no longer frightened, he shook his head.

She took her hand off his mouth. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"You didn't think I'd forgive you that easy, did you? You'll have to be punished for giving up secrets that easily!" she said. Then her face grew softer, and she came in very close to him. "I'm only playing, I'll let you go if you want."

He thought on it for a few seconds. He knew she wouldn't hurt him. Though he wasn't sure what she was going to do to him, he decided to play along. "Go ahead! Do your worst!"

She grinned evilly. "You asked for it!" Her fingers dug viciously into his armpits, and he nearly collapsed. He was unbearably ticklish.

"No, please!" he begged. "Anything but that!" he squirmed to get away, but the knots in the cloth held firm. He was helpless, unable to defend himself against her attack. He couldn't pull his arms forward far enough to protect his vulnerable sides. He couldn't pull free. She had him pushed back against the post, so he couldn't wiggle around the post. His feet were free, so he could kick her, but he would die before he would do that. All he could do was plead and beg and endure the torture.

Finally, mercifully, she relented. He sat down hard, gasping, trying to regain control of himself. She reached around and untied his hands and sat down beside him. "You okay?" she asked. "Did I overdo it?" She looked at him, worried that she had crossed the line.

He put his hand on her shoulder, and smiled as he tried to catch his breath. "I'm fine. It's been a long time since I've been tickled."

"So you're not mad? I just saw you wondering around looking for me, then I found this towel, and I've wondered for a while whether or not you were ticklish. And I knew you were feeling guilty enough that I could probably get away with it."

"No," he said. "I'm not mad. Just remember, this means I owe you one. I'll catch you off guard, and you'll pay for this!" he smiled to let her know that it really was okay.

"So, you said it's been a long time. Someone else used to tickle you?"

"I was the youngest of eight siblings. Tickle torture was one of my oldest brother's favorite games. And he wasn't as nice about it as you were. With that many against you at once, you were completely immobilized, and it could go on for hours. Made for a rough childhood. And of course, it was usually me, because I was the weird one."

She laughed. "I know. My older brother used to do that to us when we would steal his toys." She stopped talking abruptly, realizing what she had said.

Zack looked over at her. "You have a brother? Where is he? What does he do?"

She looked at the ground. "He's been dead almost ten years." She jumped to her feet. "Well, they'll be looking for us. Let's get back to work!" And then she was gone.

Zack sat there in the floor for a few minutes, gathering his thoughts. And pulling said thoughts away from certain body parts. Did she really not have any idea what she did to him? Or how hard it was not to put his arms around her and stare into her eyes until there was no question left as to how he felt about her? He had referred to her little game as torture, but the real torture was trying to control his thoughts and actions around her. Even with them unbearable sensations shooting through him, it felt so good just to have her touch him.

As the blood rushed back to his brain, something else occurred to him. She had a brother that was dead. And she said 'we' indicating another sibling or possibly a close cousin. And this was more than he knew about her family. Actually, it was all he knew about her family. Maybe he should ask some questions…

He got up, dusted himself off, and headed out to see what was going on in the lab.

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They processed the body, cataloguing everything. Casey proposed that the boy had simply fallen through the hole, but Dr, Brennan had chastised her for jumping to conclusions. There was way too much to do before they could form a picture, but Booth liked her theory. He only had one question. "What was he doing up there?"

"Probably just thinking," she said. "Probably felt like there was nowhere else he could think."

While everyone was contemplating that, the fire department pager went off, giving directions to a car fire in district three. "Is that you?" asked Dr. Brennan. They had stopped over at the fire department on the way back from the scene.

"Nope," said Casey. "When it's me, my pager will make a little two-note melody. We call it tones. And I'm district six."

"So," asked Zack, casually. "You want to come over tonight? Get a pizza, watch a movie. Just…hang out?"

"Sure," she said. "Sounds good. I have the movie _Serenity_, if you know what that is."

Zack's eyes got big, and he wanted to propose to her right then and there. "You like "Firefly"?" he asked incredulously.

"Loved it. Have the whole series on DVD. Plus the movie. We can stop and pick them up, then-" They were interrupted by a sound from her belt.

"Are those the 'tones'?" he asked.

She nodded, and listened to the description of an apartment building on fire a few blocks away. "That would be me," she said to Dr. Brennan.

"So go," said her mentor without missing a beat.

"Really?"

"Yes," said Dr. Brennan. "We have this under control, and it sounds like people need you. Go."

Her face lit up, and she turned back to Zack. "I-"

He shook his head. "No problem. Just call me when you get done, I'll order the pizza. Come on by whenever you get done."

"Okay," she said excitedly. She started to leave, then turned back to him. "Uh, Zack?" He looked up at her. "I…uh…well, I don't have your number."

"Oh," he said. "I guess I forgot." He scribbled it quickly on a piece of paper, which she stuck in her jeans pocket and headed for the door. "Bye, everybody."

"Please be careful," Zack muttered under his breath.


	9. The phone call everyone dreads

The phone woke Zack up at 2:24 am, and he fell of the couch trying to get up. Once he was able to reason slightly, he was glad it was his own couch this time. But he still couldn't remember why he was sleeping on it with his bed two rooms away. He finally made it to the phone on the sixth ring. "Hello?"

A calm, professional voice replied, "Is this Zack Addy?"

"Yes," he answered. "Who is this?"

"This is Patty Hensley from DC Memorial Hospital. Your name and number was found in the pocket of an injured firefighter after a building collapse. She was identified by a first name only, apparently it was her first day on the department." Zach was chilled by her use of the past tense.

"Casey!" he exclaimed, pulling on his shirt around the cordless phone. "Is she hurt? What happened? How bad is she?!"

"Are you family?" she asked.

"No, I'm…" What was he? "…her best friend. She doesn't have any family."

"Her best friend, and she had your phone number scribbled on a Wal-mart recipt? I'm sorry, I can't give information over the phone, except to family. You should come down here right away, if you're her best friend."

"O-okay. I'll be right- wait, she's allergic to so much, do you have a list? Do you need a list?"

"Thanks, but that won't be necessary. Thank you." She hung up, and Zack dropped the phone. Panic set in for a full five seconds. That was all he would allow it. He had to get to the hospital.

He grabbed the phone he had dropped, and dialed the number of his landlord. Hodgins was less than happy to be woke up at that hour. "If this isn't Cindy Crawford, or a reasonable facsimile, there had better be a dead body!"

His words sent a fresh wave of fear and nausea through the younger man, but he struggled in vain to keep his voice steady. "Casey's been hurt. I need to get to the hospital."

Hodgins suddenly sounded wide awake and concerned. "How bad is it?"

"I don't know," he said, hating how his voice wavered. "The building that was on fire. It collapsed."

Hodgins didn't comment on his voice. Zack could hear a rustling sound in the background and knew he was getting dressed. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Make it five," said Zack, hanging up.

Hodgins was indeed there in five minutes, with Angela. Zack met him by the driveway, and jumped in the backseat of Angela's car. Apparently, they had decided Zack was suffering enough, and that he didn't need to try to fit in the back of Hodgins'. They tried to get more information out of him, but he had told them all he knew. "That's why you lie, kid!" exclaimed Hodgins. "Tell them you are her brother!"

"But I don't lie very well," he said.

"Sweetie, don't think of it as a lie," said Angela. "In a way, that's exactly what you are. Remember telling her that we were our own family?"

He nodded silently. "If there's a next time, I'll do better."

Angela turned around in the passenger seat and forced a smile. They were all worried about the girl, but she and Zack had a special bond. "She's going to be okay, Zack."

"You didn't hear the lady on the phone, she said they only had her first name, and that they didn't need her allergies, and she sounded all…" He didn't know how to describe how the woman sounded, so he let it go. His friends understood.

Hodgins and Angela looked at each other, both wishing there was something they could say to ease their friend's pain. But there was nothing, so they kept silent. Hodgins squeezed her hand. They both knew that if they focused on Zack, they wouldn't have to worry about Casey. Christ, had the girl not been through enough?!

Zack's voice was barely audible. "What if she dies, and I never get to tell her?"

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Hodgins and Angela were only a few steps behind Zack getting into the ER. He rushed up to the desk. "Casey McKnight?" he demanded. "Where is he?"

The woman at the desk looked at him. "I don't have a McKnight listed here."

Hodgins broke in, remembering that they didn't have her last name. "One of the firefighters. Young girl, doesn't look old enough to be a firefighter, red hair. We don't know how bad she's hurt."

"Right, the firefighter girl. She's in Exam B." She pushed a button, and the door opened. "Straight through, third room on the right."

Booth ran in as they started through the door, with Brennan right behind him. "Guys, how is she?" he asked, out of breath.

"We don't know yet," Angela replied. "We just got here."

Zack led the way on inside, and found Exam B. There were two beds inside, but only one patient. Zack let out a choked sob as he looked at the person in the bed, and Angela turned away. An endotracheal tube poked out of a mass of bandages to a ventilator, failing to make a mechanical 'whoosh' sound,no longer forcing air into unresponsive lungs. A bit of charred flesh was visable through a thick, protective gel on the left forearm where the IV was attached.

"Oh, my God," muttered Booth, seeing the devastation.

Zack sat down hard in the chair, looking at what had been a person but was now just a mass of damaged, nonfunctional tissues. He wanted to cry, needed to cry, but you had to be able to breathe to cry effectively, and his throat was glued closed. All the things they had been through in the last couple of months, it wasn't supposed to end like this! Angela knelt down in front of him, and put her arms around him. He allowed himself to be held, and the tears began to fall.

Zack had never felt he way about anyone that he felt about Casey. She was special, beyond what he had imagined he could ever feel. Just looking into her eyes made him feel that despite all the horrible things he saw at work were not a part of the real world and that everything was good and safe and wonderful. She made him want to believe in the Almighty being she believed in just so he had someone to ask to watch over her. She actually made him want to believe in love, as illogical as it is with all it's messy details and it's overcomplicated reactions.

In seconds, the whole crew was around him. Booth had a hand on the younger man's shoulder, wishing there was something he could do, like the night at the bar, but there was no neat little FBI trick he could pull to make this better or make Zack hurt any less.

Finally, Zack composed himself enough to speak. "I should have told her how I felt."

"What do you mean?" asked Brennan.

They all looked at her, unbelieving. She was the only one who hadn't figured it out. Her, and Casey. Zack went on, not up to explaining right now. "She was so happy that I cared about her."

Angela was quietly crying, still holding Zack. "Oh, honey, we all cared about her."

"But she was so happy to know we cared about her that I never got to tell her I loved her!"

A crash from the doorway made them all turn around, and they were shocked to see Casey standing in the doorway, the Sprite can she dropped spilling onto the floor. Her jaw had fallen open and she was standing there in total and complete shock.

Zack stood up slowly, as if in a dream. He stared at her, not seeing the sling and swathe on her left arm, the bruises on her face, or the other signs of the trauma. He simply saw her. Through the fog of his mind, her slowly started toward her. She met him halfway, both in total shock, one from what they heard, one from the fact that the other was there to hear it. Casey spoke first. "You…love me?"

Zack put his hands on her face, assuring himself that she was really there. Once he was convinced, he grinned broadly. "You're okay!"

"Yeah. I knew that. Now, back to what I just overheard? Do you, or was that just your way of mourning poor Eddie over there?" she said, nodding to the body that was still yet to be taken to the morgue.

Zack was suddenly at a loss for words. He was just overwhelmed with so many emotions; joy at the fact that she was standing there beside him, relief that the words had finally been said, fear that she wasn't going to be happy with his feelings, that he couldn't even speak. All the worry of the past hour faded away, and he finally did what he had longed to do since the first time he saw her: He pulled her to him and kissed her.

He had not had that much practice, and was pretty sure he was in the bottom 35th percentile of the world as far as kissing skill, but he hoped he answered her question. He drew back and looked in her eyes as he had longed to do all along, and he hid nothing. She could see his heart, and apparently liked what she saw. She smiled, and pulled him to her with her good arm and kissed him back.


	10. Feelings and pain meds

A/N: Sorry this took so long, I was out of town in a place that didn't have internet.

Booth was the first to find his voice. "We though he was you!"

"Well," she said, leaning heavily on Zack. "He's not. I'm sorry I wasn't in here. I wanted a can of pop, and they're a little swamped tonight, so I went to get it myself. Sorry I worried you. What are you doing here, anyway?"

"They called me," said Zack. "They found my number in your pocket and called me…Why were they looking for someone? Weren't you awake?" He suddenly remembered the million questions he had for her. "What happened? What did the doctor say? What's wrong with your arm?"

She motioned them around to the second bed and sat down, pulling Zack down with her by the hand she was still holding. Angela and Brennan sat down in the two chairs, and Booth and Hodgins stood at the end of the bed. "I was on the third floor when the floor fell in. I was falling, then I woke up here. I've only been up about ten minutes. Actually, they'll be pissed if they find out I wondered off. I guess they called you to come and get me. They're not going to let me drive with a broken shoulder. Or the grade two concussion, for that matter."

"So your arm is broken?" asked Dr. Brennan.

Casey nodded. "Fracture of the proximal humerus. Somehow managed to break the bone longways, so I won't need a cast. Gotta keep it like this for a while. Am I going to lose my job?"

Dr. Brennan looked at her strangely. "Why would you lose your job?"

"Because I don't have both hands now. It's going to be hard."

"Well, are you giving up?"

"Not a chance in Hell!" Casey exclaimed, smiling. Zack pulled her even closer, not caring about the details just then. All that mattered was that she was his. She laid her head over on his shoulder, and there was nothing else in the universe at that moment.

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It was nearly two hours before the doctor got around to releasing her. With all her allergies, it was difficult to find a painkiller that she could take, and by the time the adrenaline wore off, she would definitely need it. She had literally split the top bone in her arm at the end where it joined her body. And it was going to hurt like Hell.

Finally, Angela caught Casey's eye, and got what she needed. "Okay, everybody who isn't Casey or Zack, out!"

A few murmurs of protest, and then they were gone, leaving the two of them alone with their feelings, and the body of a dead firefighter. Only the curtain separated them, but given what they did, it was not too much of a concern. Casey looked at Zack, her expression unreadable. "So, did you mean it? Or even better, did you really do that and say that, or is it just the head injury putting me through a fantasy I hadn't allowed myself to imagine?"

"I did. Say it, I mean. And do it. It's not the head injury, or a dream. I fell in love with you the first time I saw you."

"Why?"

Now, there were a lot of questions that Zack anticipated, and had rehearsed answers for the million times he had thought about how this would go, and this had never been one of them. "I-What?"

"Why? Why would you love me? I mean, I love you too, and I'm…well…happy and grateful don't even scratch the surface, but I don't understand why a person would love me. It just doesn't compute." The look on Zack's face was getting more and more confused by the minute, so she tried very quickly to cover. "I mean, you're sweet and funny and absolutely adorable, it seems like you could do so much better than me. How come you don't have someone twice as smart that looks like Angela?"

"I've never been very good with women. That's why I never said anything to you before. I was afraid you wouldn't want me. Hodgins says it's because I'm not very good in bed." He winced. "That part wasn't supposed to come out."

She giggled. "I love you too, Zack. And I bet you're great in bed." He blushed about two shades past purple.

"Okay," said Hodgins, popping back in. "You two decent? Good." He hadn't waited for an answer, just walked around the curtain. "Doc says you're ready to go." He handed her a pill bottle. "And he said that you should be able to take these. One every four hours as needed."

She allowed herself to be led out of the room, pausing only a second to salute her fallen comrade, and walked out to the front door before a male nurse caught up with her. "Take those pills, kid. Don't try to be tough. That's gonna hurt like a bitch."

"I will, Terry," she said, starting to feel the first twinges of what would hit her full-force soon. "Don't worry."

He grinned conspiratorily, and nodded to Zack, who had his arm around her waist. "That him?"

"Yeah," she said. "That's him."

"Congratulations, then." He looked over to Zack. "Take care of her, man."

Zack looked confused. "Don't worry. I will." He smiled. "With everything I have."

He pulled her closer as they walked outside. "So," he asked her casually. "Who was that?"

"Terry Malloy. I volunteer here sometimes as an EMT. Terry and I talk a lot."

"So, you talk about me?"

She laughed. "He asked me out once. I turned him down, told him I was interested in someone else, but that I didn't know if they were interested in me or not. And now I do."

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Booth and Brennan bid their goodnights and went to their cars as the two couples got into Angela's car. "So, you're staying with me tonight, right?" asked Zack, then realized how it sounded. "Not that I'm suggesting that we…you know, what we were talking about earlier, just that you hit your head, and your arm's going to hurt and you shouldn't be alone."

She smirked. "Yeah, I look like I'm up for a night of gold-medal winning gymnastics!"

Hodgins laughed. "You may be overestimating Zack." The younger man felt the blood rush to his face.

Casey replied quickly. "You may be underestimating me." Hodgins damn near crashed the car, and Zack felt his blood rush somewhere other than his face. Angela was laughing so hard at the look on her boyfriend's face that she almost couldn't breathe.

"Nice to know," Hodgins muttered, and Angela elbowed him in the ribs. "Why don't you guys come up to the main house for a little while? I could use a drink, Casey I know you don't drink, but Zack looks like he could, too."

"I could," he replied. "You don't mind, do you?" he asked Casey. Hodgins rolled his eyes. Asking permission already. The boy had it bad!

"Sure," said Casey. "I don't know if I'll be able to sleep anyway. My arm's starting to really hurt." Zack produced her pills out of his shirt pocket, and Angela handed her a bottle of water. She took two of them, but nobody said anything about it.

Something suddenly occurred to Angela. "Wait a second! We leave you alone to talk about your feelings and you talk about sex?!"

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They sat once again in Hodgins' living room, beers for the men, a Cosmopolitan for Angela, and a plain cranberry juice for Casey, they all settled in. Angela had arranged herself and Hodgins on the big couch, so Zack and Casey either had to sit separately on the chairs, or very close together on the smaller couch, and was pleased to see that once they were settled, they were close enough to leave room for almost another person beside them. If they were any closer, Casey would have been in his lap. "So," said Angela, "Casey, will you come help me with refills?"

Casey looked at her like she had lost her mind. "Uh…broken arm?"

Angela sighed. These two were a match made in heaven. Never had she met two people that clueless! "Okay, then, let's go into the kitchen and talk about the boy. Just like high school."

"Oh," said Casey. "Okay." She started trying to get up, but Hodgins stopped her.

"That's okay, kid. Me and Zack will go, you two just stay here and talk. Does anybody need any real refills?"

"I could use one," said Angela.

Casey shook her head. "No, I'm okay. My stomach fells a little weird." Zack squeezed her hand and got up, following his friend into the kitchen.

"So," said Casey.

"So," said Angela.

"I kinda sucked at the girl talk thing even in high school. Is this where I'm supposed to ask questions about sex, and stuff like that? 'Cause I already know most of that stuff." Angela almost spilled her drink. Even after all this time with first Zack and now Casey, she was sure she would never be able to predict what was going to come out of one of their mouths next.

"Ok…well, is there anything you want to talk about?" she said, recovering.

Casey, however, hadn't realized that she had nearly caused her friend to choke. "So, what's the deal with Booth and Dr. Brennan? Are they a couple or what? I mean, you can tell how they feel for each other, it's not like they're subtle about it or anything."

Angela laughed. "Well, you and Zack weren't much better. We all knew it long before either of you did." She didn't include that they had mistaken Zack's early feelings for jealousy. "They're not really a couple. They're in that limbo you and Zack were in for the last few weeks. They both know, we all know, but they don't talk about it."

"Why not?"

Angela shrugged. "Brennan came from a really rough background. You see, her parents disappeared when she was 15, and then we found her mother's body, and we know her father is still alive, but we're not sure if he's a good guy or a bad guy. So she's a little slow to form strong bonds."

Casey nodded. "That'll do it. What about Booth? Does he just keep his feelings quiet out of respect for her, or is he messed up too?"

"Well, Booth has this Superman thing going on. And he's afraid that if the bad guys find out about Lois Lane…"

The girl finished for her. "Then Lois might get hurt." She nodded. "I can understand that, too. Sucks for them, though. Now that Zack knows how I feel, it's like a weight lifted from my shoulders, and maybe I can believe that everything's going to be okay."

Angela wasn't sure what to say to that, so she went the easy way. "How's the arm?"

"Hurts like a bitch," said Casey without changing her tone. "But I've had worse."

Angela shook her head. "Girl, you have been through Hell in the last few months. You nearly suffocated that day in the lab, there was that fight, then you fell in the water tower yesterday, now this! I know your arm hurts, and your head, and probably everything else, too after the fall you took. How are you still so…"

"Stoic? Upbeat, even?"

Angela nodded. "I mean, I know there's you and Zack, but come on! How are you even holding it together?"

Casey smiled enigmatically. "There's worse things in the world than pain."

"Don't hear that very often. Like what?"

Now Casey was no longer able to meet her eyes. "Like fear."

"Okay," said Angela. "I'll give you that one. But I still don't understand."

"Hopefully you never will." Casey sat up a little straighter. "So, how long have you and Hodgins been together?"

"Nice try," said Angela. "You don't get to make deep, philosophical statements like that and not elaborate. We haven't asked many questions about your past, but that doesn't mean we're not all dying of curiosity!"

Casey looked very uncomfortable. "Angela," she said, after a long pause to collect her thoughts. "I feel so at home with you guys. I've never felt that before. And I wish I could answer your questions. But I can't."

Angela softened. "I know what it's like to come from a screwed up family. I'm sure you've heard by now who my father is." Casey nodded. "Well, that doesn't necessarily make for a normal childhood either. You can talk to me. It may hurt, but maybe you should talk about it."

"I…just can't!" said Casey, wishing she had a way to explain what she knew she couldn't. "If I told you, it could bring it all back, and I've tried so hard to get away!"

Angela nodded. "I know. You think you can just bury it, but someday, it'll come up anyway, and you'll need to deal with it. When that happens, I'm here to talk." She reached over and patted Casey on the good shoulder. "Anytime the past gets a little too close.

Casey nodded. It was safer to allow Angela to think she meant the memories. What she didn't know was that when the past came a little too close, it would be too late to talk. For any of them.

Her stomach rolled alarmingly, and she tried to believe it was just the repressed memories physical manifestations. Then it happened again, and it was obvious that it was purely physical. She struggled to her feet. "Bathroom," she croaked to Angela.

Running the mansion's layout through her head, she tried to remember the closest bathroom. "This way," she said, leading the sick girl. They made it to the bathroom just in time, as Casey started vomiting.

"Oh, Christ! Is that blood?" Hodgins came up behind Angela, just as she was turning away.

"Casey!" exclaimed Zack, rushing to her.

"It's the concussion, right?" asked Angela. "That makes you sick, doesn't it?"

"Guys?" Hodgins repeated. "Is that blood?"

Finally, Casey got enough of a break to catch her breath. "Not blood," she said weakly. "Cranberry juice." Another pause to breathe. And I don't think it's from th-" She cut off again as another bout of retching seized her. It was a few more moments before she could continue. "Not the concussion. Only puke like this-" Again with the retching. "Allergic. Ultram."

"Shit!" exclaimed Angela, remembering the first time they had encountered her allergies. "We have to get her to the hospital!"

Casey held up a finger, and shook her head. When she was able to talk again, she tried to explain. "Different kind if allergies. Just gonna puke. Phenergan in my purse."

"But you don't have your purse!" exclaimed Angela.

"It's in my car," she realized. "Then this is going to be a long night."

"Someone will have to go get it," said Zack.

"But who?" asked Hodgins. "We've all been drinking. Except for Casey, who's been taking pain meds." They looked at each other. This wasn't good. "Call Brennan!"

"I'll be okay, eventually," said Casey. She had momentarily stopped being sick, and was leaning against Zack, her skin an unhealthy grey.

"How long is eventually?" Angela asked.

"About a day," she replied.

"Call Dr. Brennan," said Zack. Casey got sick again, and wasn't able to protest.

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An hour later, after Dr. Brennan had brought her medicine, after she stopped throwing up, after Zack took her back to his apartment, she was tucked into Zack's bed. He covered her up, kissed her on the forehead, and to her surprise, turned to leave. "What?" she asked. "After all this, I still have to sleep alone?"

He looked surprised. "I didn't think you'd feel like sharing space tonight."

She was very drowsy from the phenergan, and looked up at him. "Just the opposite. I don't want to be alone. Just hold me?"

He didn't need an engraved invitation, so he carefully slid under the blankets to her back and carefully arranged his arm over her side, below her injured arm, but high enough that it didn't seem like he was asking for anything. She wanted to be held, that was what she would get. He thought about the last twenty-four hours, it had been one eventful day. Shaking his head, he laughed softly.

"What?" she asked, half asleep.

He kissed the back of her head. "Why does it seem that the girl I fell so hard for seems intent on giving me a heart attack?"


	11. 80's horror movie

Casey woke from a restlessly drugged sleep on the couch in Dr. Brennan's office, where she had been ordered by first Dr. Brennan then Dr. Saroyan the second time her head hit the table she was working on, by something hitting her face repeatedly. She wiped the item away, then struggled to sit up. Opening her eyes, she saw Booth standing about six feet away with a handful of paper clips, one in his right hand poised to throw it at her. Seeing she was awake, he smiled. "Hey, kid. Naptime's over. Ready to join the grown-ups and do actual work?"

After the long night of vomiting from the ultram, Zack had called the doctor the next morning. The doctor had gone through the PDR, looking for something he could give her. Finally, he decided on simple codeine. It helped with the pain, but it knocked her out good. She could hardly hold her head up, but she had been trying her best to function until she had been banished to the couch under the threat of knocking her out with a femur to the back of the head.

Casey smiled. Booth sounded like he was being snotty, like he thought she was being lazy, but she knew better. He knew she was tired of being babied, being looked after. Everyone was being so helpful, Zack carrying her duffel bag could be overlooked as an attempt at chivalry, but everyone else opening doors for her and packing her tools and the bones she was working on around for her was beginning to make her feel useless. Booth understood that she didn't need to be treated like she was breakable. "That depends. Are they going to let me do actual work? Or am I going to make a coffee run that will end with Angela meeting me in the parking lot to help carry it all?"

Booth shrugged. "I don't know. How does going out in the field with Zack suit you?"

"You guys are letting me out in the field?!"

"Can you hold a camera?"

"Yeah."

"Great. You and Zack are taking a little road trip. How long has it been since your last knock-out pill?"

She looked at her watch. 'Bout four hours."

"Good. You're driving, you know." She hurried to put her shoes on, but her fingers fumbled on the laces. Booth winced watching her, but stopped himself before he offered to help. She would smack his hand away if he even tried. Finally, she gave up, tucked the strings into her shoes and headed for the main lab. Booth followed, wondering if this was such a good idea.

"So, where are we going?" she asked him.

"A gardener found 8 wooden boxes with bodies in them in his employer's back yard. His employer is a candidate for the senate, so the FBI thought it necessary to send their brain trust. Bones is finishing up on the last case, so she said to send Zack. And, of course, it's a long walk, and he could probably use an extra pair of hands…so to speak…and you want experience, so, hey…" He shrugged. "Win-win."

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The scene was processed, the pictures and video taken, and all eight of the boxes were dug up. It was nearly six o'clock in the evening, and Casey and Zack were worn out. The three hour drive was rough in itself, on the narrow, winding roads into the outskirts of Duffield, Virginia. Zack had gotten very carsick, and the codeine had worn off and Casey's arm was throbbing. They were packing their equipment into Casey's Honda SUV, getting ready to leave when Agent Matthews came up to them. "We got a problem," he said.

"What's up?" asked Casey.

"Found another box inside. Must be the newest victim, it hasn't been buried yet. Body's still relatively fresh."

"Okay," said Zack. "Let me get the camera and we'll be inside to photograph the scene."

"That's fine, but that's not the problem. The problem is that we don't have room to transport another body."

"You're kidding, right?" asked Casey. "This kind of thing doesn't happen twice in a week!"

Matthews shook his head. "Transportation department has been a little screwed up lately. Our boss had a heart attack, and we're just running around like chickens with their heads cut off." Casey thought for a second that the cliché sounded funny when used in plural.

"Okay," said Casey. "I guess we don't mind taking it back with us." Zack shrugged, then handed her a camera as he set up the video.

An hour later, Zack and Matthews loaded the box into the back of the little silver Honda. "Just follow behind us," said Matthews. "Try to keep up."

Casey was already in the driver's seat when Zack got in. "Try to keep up!" she grumbled. "Yeah! I can blow their sorry asses out of the water!"

"Yeah, I'm sure you could," said Zack. "But how about we try to get home alive, instead?"

Casey smirked. It was cute how easy it was to scare him. He'd crap his pants if he ever saw how she drove when she was alone. "Okay, I'll be careful."

They pulled out behind the black GMC Matthews was driving and the black Ford in front of him. Casey wondered bleakly if the myth about the black FBI vehicles was true, or if they were simply making fun of the myth. Zack plugged in her iPod and turned it on through the stereo, and they rode in peace, listening to the old country and 80's rock songs Casey preferred. Bob Seger was halfway through "Old Time Rock and Roll" when a car suddenly flew past them, way too fast. It cut over there in front of them, left the road. Zack yelped and covered his eyes as Casey slammed on her brakes, skidding to a stop. The little sports car crashed through the guardrail into a tree and lay on its side, wheels still spinning.

Casey pulled the vehicle to the side of the road and threw open the door. "Come on, Zack! Get the blue bag from the back! Gloves in the front pocket. Hurry!"

She was out of the car and halfway to the wreck when she heard Zack. "But wait!" he called. "We're supposed to be following the FBI guys!"

"They're already gone!" she yelled back. "We have to help this guy! He's not moving! Call 911, and toss me my bag!"

He did as he was instructed, grabbing the bag and her cell phone, and followed her. The driver was slumped over the steering wheel, bleeding from everywhere. Casey took her trauma kit from Zack, took out a cervical collar and checked the driver over while Zack called for a real ambulance.

Finding a weak and rapid pulse, Casey fought in vain with the C-collar before giving up. Zack, you have to help me!"

Zack had a lot of experience with human bodies but none of them had still been breathing. "What do I do?" he asked.

She quickly talked him through the c-collar, and then reassessed him. "He's getting blood in his airway," she said. "We have to get him out!" Before Zack could ask, she ran back to the car and came back with a flat piece of cardboard. "Here's what we have to do…"

She and Zack had the patient out of the vehicle, partially immobilized by the piece of cardboard, and turned over on his side to keep his airway clear by the time the ambulance arrived. She had most of the bleeding under control with gauze pads. She gave the EMS crew her name and EMT number, gave a statement to the police. Zack just sort of sat there, dazed. This was apparently routine for her, but he wasn't used to this. Blood covered his hands, his clothes, there were even a few smears on his face. A sick feeling filled the pit of his stomach, and he didn't understand it. He had been covered in virtually every fluid that could come from a body, had discussed his plans for lunch with Hodgins over decaying guts, burned flesh, even that mess with all those chemicals in the bathtub, and never felt like this. He couldn't believe that a simple mechanism of continued breathing made such a difference in his feelings. What he worked with were bodies. This was a person, and that was a different thing altogether. He watched Casey interact with the paramedics, how easily they joked while she helped them perform a proper immobilization on a person-sized plastic board, then she stood back as they lifted the patient into the ambulance.

She walked back to him, and he saw that she was an even bigger mess than he was. The paramedics had given her a handful of antibacterial wipes to clean up with, and she passed half of them to Zack. She was smiling. "Now, that's what I call a good time!"

Zack looked at her funny. "You are really weird, you know that?"

She ignored him. When the last of the police left the scene, Casey pulled out a bag from her back seat. "Want to change clothes?" she asked. "I think I have a pair of sweatpants in here that may fit you."

He was eager to get out of the bloody clothes, so he accepted the grey sweatpants and black t-shirt. Looking around to make sure they were alone, he stripped out of the soiled clothes, cleaned any blood that soaked through off with the wipes, and got dressed quickly. Surprisingly, the girl's sweatpants almost fit him, they were just a little bit short. When he went around the vehicle, he saw Casey was dressed in fresh jeans and a MASH t-shirt. He was amazed that she had been able to dress herself so quickly, even with the bad arm. What he didn't see was how bad it had hurt. And she would die before she would let him see. "Lets go," she said.

He got in the car, and as the sun was going down they realized they had another problem. "So,…uh…" Casey began. "You have a photographic memory. Which way is home?"

Zack winced. "I think I was dozing off a little…"

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"Oh, shit!" exclaimed Casey, doing a double-take. "Did that sign say Pike county, Kentucky?!"

"That's not good," Zack commented unnecessarily.

"We're lost," said Casey.

"Apparently quite badly," Zack added.

The two-lane road they had been on had degenerated into little more than a goat path with weeds growing down the middle. "No cell service, I suppose," she said, checking her phone. "Nope."

She looked at Zack. "What now?"

His eyes widened. "I don't know! Am I supposed to know?"

She shook her head. "No, of course not. I was just looking for suggestions. Do you have any?"

He also shook his head. "Do we have a map?"

"Sure," she said cheerily. "Of D.C., Maryland, Virginia, and West Virginia. They're all at least six years out of date and we're in the wrong state." She laid her head over on the steering wheel. "It's almost midnight, we're about ten miles past the back door to Hell, with no idea how we got here, we have no map, and we're low on gas. I'm living proof of Murphy's Law." She was actually laughing, at least until she tried to turn and face Zack, and bumped her arm. Nearly 12 hours without a pain pill was well past caught up with her, and she let out a sound that was half-way between a yelp and a whine.

"Are you due for another pill?" asked Zack. The look on her face told him all he needed to know. "Oh, hell, you haven't had one all day, have you? Because you had to drive!" He dropped his head. "Got, Casey, I'm sorry! If I had thought I'd have…"

"What, learned to drive?" She felt guilty as soon as the words were out of her mouth, and even worse when she saw the look on Zack's face. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't snap at you. It's not your fault. When I'm hurt, I get bitchy. I guess it's just my way of dealing with pain. I don't mean to take it out on you." She squeezed his hand, and he looked up at her with a weak smile.

She laughed again. "Isn't this going to make a great story to tell when we get back!"

"If we get back," he added.

"Yeah, road falling apart, middle of the night, lost in the woods. I've seen this movie!"

"What movie?" Zack asked, and Casey let that one go. "Hey, look!" he exclaimed. "There a police car up there!"

They caught up with the police car, and drove behind it for a short while before the car pulled over and let them pass. They weren't sure what to do then, but it became a moot point when the blue lights flicked on. Casey pulled over. "Maybe he can take us to civilization," she said.

"What are you kids doing out here at this time of night?"

"We're lost," said Zack. "I'm Dr. Zack Addy, a forensic anthropologist with the Jeffersonian institute and-"

The cop cut him off. "Stay put, both of you." They looked at each other uncertainly as he circled the vehicle, their faces suddenly breaking into near identical expressions of horror. The cop made his way back to the driver's side, weapon drawn. "So," he said conversationally. "Which of you wants to explain the bloody clothes and the box leaking blood in the back?"


	12. Murphy's law

A/N: Here's another update for you guys, courtesy of whoever put in a new wireless internet thingy at the ambulance service, and I will try to have a few more this weekend if we're not busy. This chapter was fun to write. Hope you enjoy, please review!

An hour later, they were sitting on a wooden bench at a branch station of the Pike county sheriff department. Zack had his hands cuffed behind him and threaded through the slats on the bench. After much struggling and fighting, Casey had her good hand cuffed to the same slat, her broken arm remained securely fastened to her chest. Zack had a good-sized bruise on his cheek for his trouble in assuring that.

"Well," said the deputy that had arrested them. "If this ain't the wildest story I've ever heard. You two kids really expect me to believe that you, who can't even be out of high school, are forensic what-the-hell-ever and are transporting this poor woman's body for the FBI. Oh, yeah, and the blood was from a car wreck you saw and helped with because you also happen to be EMTs!"

"Not both of us, only her," corrected Zack. "I just had to help because her arm's hurt."

"Oh, okay. Glad we got that straight." The deputy rolled his eyes and ran his fingers through his grey, thinning hair and crammed his enormous bulk into a tiny office chair behind a desk. "Just have to call the state police and figure out what I'm going to do with you two." He picked up the phone.

"Wait," said Casey. "Call our FBI contact, Agent Seely Booth. His cell number is in my phone, but he may be at the lab still. That number is in there too."

"I don't have time to deal with this," the deputy growled.

"Just call him. Or I will. I never got my phone call. You wouldn't want to violate my civil rights, now, would you?"

"Alright! I'll call him. But it's not going to help you any."

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Booth was indeed still at the lab, as was everyone else, starting to get rather concerned about their missing crew. They should have been back hours ago. The other bodies had arrived, and Matthews told them he had lost the little Honda a few miles after they started. No one was answering Casey's cell phone, and there was no way to find them. Just then, Booth's cell phone rang. He walked into Brennan's office to talk in private, but the rest of the team could hear the shouting from there.

When he came out, his face was red and he was shaking his head. "What's wrong?" asked Brennan. "Is it Casey and Zack?"

Booth didn't acknowledge the question. Instead, he turned to Hodgins. "How much cash can you get your hands on at once?"

"Whatever we need. What's going on? Are they in trouble?"

"They will be when I get a hold of them! Come with me."

He turned to walk out. "Wait!" exclaimed Hodgins. "Where are we going?"

Booth stopped and smirked, angry but still appreciating the humor in the situation. "We're going to a tiny little town in eastern Kentucky to bail Casey and Zack out of jail!"

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Zack was dozing slightly, but Casey's arm hurt too much. She had considerably more freedom of movement than Zack, but she would have traded him places in a second. Except then he would be the one in pain, so maybe she wouldn't. As she squirmed around on the bench trying to find a comfortable position that wouldn't disturb Zack, she considered asking the deputy for one of her pills, but quickly discarded the thought. He wouldn't give it to her, and she'd be damned if she would beg. It didn't hurt that bad. Yet. It occurred to her that it would be at least three hours before Booth got there and it was very possible she would be at that point before he got there.

Time crawled slowly, and Casey may or may not have dozed off, head on Zack's shoulder. The deputy sat at the desk doing paperwork and occasionally glaring over at his prisoners. Finally, he sighed, and got up. Stretching his arms over his head, his back cracked loudly and he knocked over a small desk lamp. Then he looked at Casey. "I'll be in the back if you need me. Just come knock on the door," he sneered. Then he waddled through a back door and slammed it, jarring Zack awake.

"What'd I miss?" he asked quickly.

"Nothing. Barney being a smart-ass. Said if we needed anything to just knock on the door." She smiled.

Zack leaned his head back against the wall. "Maybe we'd be better off in jail," he said.

"Why?" Casey asked, concerned.

"Because," he replied with the typical expression of a teenager waiting on his father to pick him up from the principal's office, "when Booth gets here, he's going to kill us!" He saw that she was still grinning. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, come on! Booth will get us out of this. And next week, this will be the funniest thing that ever happened to us!"

"Funniest thing that ever happened to us? Casey, we've been arrested for murder!"

"Not to mention resisting arrest and assaulting an officer. Thanks for that, by the way."

"Hey, he was going to twist your arm behind your back. I couldn't let him do that."

"Anyway, this is the kind of thing that makes life interesting!"

"Being arrested for a capital crime does make life interesting, I'll give you that. I wonder if I should take up with the biggest guy there, or just pretend to be dangerously insane. I've heard those are the best ways to avoid being someone's…" he was unable to think of a proper word, so he left it at that.

Casey, however, was not willing to let this train of thought get derailed. "That's your plan on how not to end up as Bubba's bitch? Come on! You have to either get in a fight on the first day, or act like you're possessed. Channel Satan, or tell people your food is telling you to do things to small animals. You're young and cute, though, so you may actually have to kill someone to protect yourself." Zack was looking very pale, so Casey decided to stop teasing him. "Booth specifically told him not to put us in a cell, and to keep us together. If he really thought he had us on murder, he would have told Booth to kiss his ass and put us in a cell anyways. And tomorrow, we'll all have a good laugh about it. I promise."

His eyes suddenly got very wide. "Hey, she said. "Calm down. Booth may be a little pissed that he had to drive this far, but-"

Zack interrupted her. "No, look!"

She looked in the direction he indicated, and saw a very frightening sight. The desk lamp, still on, had fallen onto a pile of papers. The papers had begun to blacken, and one suddenly burst into flames. "Oh, that's not good!" exclaimed Casey. She began to yell at the top of her lungs as Zack struggled with his handcuffs. "Deputy! Help! There's a fire! Fire! Dammit, help us!" she looked at Zack and started struggling against her own restraint.

"What are we going to do?" asked Zack.

"I don't know! Why would I know what to do?"

"Well, you're a firefighter!"

She gestured to her arm. "Do I look like a particularly good firefighter to you?!"

The flames had spread over the whole desk, and was reaching the curtains. Zack stared at it in wide-eyed horror. Casey jerked hard on the slat they were chained to, and it gave a tiny bit. Seeing that, Zack pulled against it with all his weight. Then they combined their forces. Still only a little. Then Casey had a plan. She twisted around and grabbed the Velcro end of her swathe, freeing her hurt arm. Flames got closer as she eased off the sling and tucked them into the waistband of her jeans. "What are you doing?" asked Zack.

She didn't look at him. "Something I'm going to regret real soon." Drawing back, she slammed her fist into the slat full force, and howled with pain as the slat splintered in the middle. Tears jumped to her eyes as she cradled it to her chest, but they were free. Jarring a broken bone seemed to be a fair trade for both of them not burning to death inside this building. "Get out!" she yelled to him. "I'll meet you out front!"

"Where are you going?" he demanded.

"I have to get the deputy!"

Flames were roaring around them now, making it hard to hear. "Why?" Asked Zack. "Just get out!"

"We're the good guys, Zack. The minute we forget that, we're no better than the bad guys." She kissed him, and ran off toward the back room. With no other choice, he ran for the door, hoping she would make it out.

"Deputy!" she screamed, pounding on the door. "You have to get out! There's a fire! Hurry!" When there was no answer, she tried the door. Locked. Stepping back, she drew up her foot and delivered a sharp kick just beside the lock, opening it quickly. The deputy was asleep on the bed, snoring like a buzz saw, and Casey wondered how in the world this place got away with not having smoke alarms.

She shook him violently. "Wake up! There's a fire!"

He sat up and grabbed her, sending another nauseating bolt of pain through her arm. "A fire? You set a fire?" he stuck his feet into his boots and dragged her out of the room, both coughing from the smoke. "Where's your friend? Or boss, or whatever he is? Did he leave without you?"

"He's outside," she said, choking, wishing she could pull her t-shirt up over her mouth to filter her breath, but he held her good arm tightly and she couldn't raise her bad one high enough. "We didn't do it! You knocked over the lamp and it caught the papers on fire." She was babbling, but she did that when she was nervous. "It had to be at least a 75 watt, or maybe even 100 in a 40 watt lamp! Didn't you know it was a fire hazard? What the hell were you thinking? You could have killed us all!"

He smacked her as he drug her out the door. "Just shut up! Aren't you in enough trouble as it is?"

Zack was waiting outside, just as he was told. "The fire department is on it's way," he said, but the deputy wasn't interested.

"You should have run while you could!" he said, grabbing Zack by the arm with his other hand. He pulled them over to a parking meter a safe distance away. He let go of Casey. "Stay put," he threatened, "or I'm gonna whup the shit outta him!" Obediently, Casey stood stock-still, not wanting to provoke the big man to violence again, violence that he would justify by saying it was his job. He unlocked the empty cuff, and put the chain from Zack's cuffs in it, and locked it to the parking meter. With that, he ran back to the fire.

Zack and Casey just looked at each other, faces clearly saying 'What else could possibly happen?' Just then, one of the rookie firefighters lost the grip on the hose. It jumped out of his grip, and flopped around on the sidewalk as he tried to recover it. He finally caught it, and while trying to get a good grip on the hose, he accidentally turned it right on them, soaking them with a bruising spray.

Casey saw it coming, and turned her head to the side. Zack, on the other hand, was watching intently and took it right in the face. He sputtered and coughed, realizing that with his hands pinned he couldn't wipe the water out of his eyes. Lacking a better idea, he wiped his eyes on Casey's shoulder. She laughed, and he finally just laughed with her. This day was just getting too absurd to be believed. "You're right." He said finally. "This is going to make a very interesting story!"

They sat there watching the firefighters for almost an hour when the familiar black SUV came flying up the road at twice the speed limit. Seeing Casey and Zack, the brakes locked up and the car skidded sideways. Booth and Hodgins burst out, not bothering to shut the doors behind them and ran to the soaking wet pair chained to a parking meter. "Are you two okay?" he asked. They exchanged a look, then burst out laughing. Booth's eyes went wide. "Are you drunk?" he demanded.

"We're fine," said Casey. "There was a fire and the deputy ran off and he left us here."

Still about a dozen pages behind, Booth said to Hodgins "You stay here with them. I'll see if I can't find out who's running this circus!" Hodgins nodded as Booth ran toward the fire. Then he turned back to face his friends. "What in the name of all that is Holy happened to you two?" But before they could answer, Hodgins saw Booth getting more than a little agitated with the oversized deputy. "Hold that thought," he said. "I better do something before we get arrested too." Once again, he knew he shouldn't say it, but the opportunity was just too much. "Don't go anywhere!" Off their dirty looks, he got p and rushed over to Booth.

A few minutes later, the deputy shook his head and walked away in disgust, handing Booth a piece of paper. They returned to Casey and Zack, and Booth unlocked the handcuffs. The two stood up, Zack rubbing his abraided wrists, Casey cradling her wounded arm. As Zack gently helped her ease her arm back into the sling, she looked up at Booth. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he said. "But let's talk about this a second." Zack's head dropped like a little boy waiting for a spanking. Booth looked at the paper in his hand. "So far in one night, you were charged with murder, resisting arrest, assaulting an officer, using fake IDs-"

"There were no fake IDs!" exclaimed Casey, indignant. "He just didn't believe our Jeffersonian passes! And-"

Booth held up a finger. "I'm not done. This is a very interesting list of charges. But there are a few questions on my mind." He paused, watching the pair squirm. "Okay, Casey, how in the hell did you manage to assault the deputy with only one arm?"

Casey looked at her feet, unsure what to say, but Zack spared her from making up a lie for him. "She didn't. That one was me."

"YOU, Zack?"

He shrugged, still uncomfortable. "He was trying to pull her arm behind her back. It was hurting her. So I pushed him."

Booth put a hand on Zack's face and turned his head, looking at his bruise. "And that's when he did that?" Zack nodded, feeling a little more confident, as Booth could not keep a straight face as he read the next line of the report. "And which one of you called him a self-righteous son of a diseased…" he paused. "Does that say wombat?! Where on Earth did you come up with that?!"

Casey giggled. "That was me. I don't know. It popped into my head to say…"

Booth nodded, barely containing a laugh. "And whatever comes into a squint's head usually leaks out their mouth." He shook his head. "Okay, and then there's the attempt to escape, and burning down a sheriff's department."

"But we didn't-" Casey began, but Booth cut her off. "I don't even care at this point. I know you didn't do most of that stuff, and with the threat of an abuse lawsuit, he agreed to make it all go away. With a little help from Hodgins."

Hodgins shook his head. "I didn't do anything. I just mentioned who my lawyer was, and suddenly you guys weren't so terrible anymore."

"So, can we go home now?" Casey asked. "And get my car? I really need a codeine. Bad."

"Yeah," said Booth "Let's go pick up your car. Hodgins, can you drive her car home?"

"Sure."

They walk over to the badly parked SUV, the stopped in their tracks. The furry creature sitting in the driver's seat hissed at them, and it's fur stood out. "What the hell is that?!" Booth demanded, somewhat panicked.

Casey rolled her eye wearily. "Cool it, city-boy. Haven't you ever seen a possum before?"

"Uh, no," said Booth. "Can you get rid of it?"

"Sure. Give me your keys." Booth handed her a huge ring of keys. She stared at the odd little creature, then wound up for a fastball as she hit the possum square in the head, and it fell over, either dead or simply 'playing possum'. She calmly walked over, picked it up by its tail and tossed it out of the seat. Then she looked back at her friends, as if to say 'okay, all clear'.

Booth almost laughed. "What a night! What is going on here?"

Zack and Casey met each other's eyes, and in perfect unison said, "Murphy's law!"

Booth rolled his eyes. "You two are never leaving the lab again!"


	13. Happy birthday

A/N: Sorry this took so long, had a busy weekend at work. This chapter is a little awkward and I apologize. It just didn't want to come out.I hope I did a better job than I think I did. Leave feedback, it helps the story along! Enjoy!

The conclusion of the airtight case against the senatorial candidate, Casey's first court appearance as an expert witness for the Jeffersonian, was the day before Casey's 24th birthday. Dr. Brennan and the others had a surprise party planned, but there was one problem: they couldn't keep Casey in one place long enough to get set up.

Casey was on cloud nine, and thoroughly bouncing off the walls. She had helped put the bad guy in jail. Was there any bigger adrenaline rush? They had tried to give her busy work, but she finished very quickly and was back to bugging the crap out of the rest of the crew. She was in and out of Dr. Brennan's office every five minutes while Dr. Brennan tried to make the arrangements with Sid. Finally, she put Sid on hold and called Angela's office. "You have to do something with her if you expect me to get this together!"

Casey stuck her head in again, just as Angela came up behind her. "Come here, kid," she called.

Casey turned to see Angela. "What's up? Is there something going on?"

"Calm down!" Angela commanded. Geez! The kid was like a ten-year-old on speed sometimes! "Um, Hodgins wanted to talk to you." She hoped Jack would forgive her. "Get a bottle of potassium cyanide and meet him in his lab." Casey trotted off like a hyperactive puppy, giving Angela enough time to warn Hodgins.

"You have to keep her out of Dr. Brennan's hair for a little bit!" she told him. "I have actual work to do before the party, and Brennan is trying to get everything set up."

He rolled his eyes. "I don't do babysitting! Where's Zack?"

"He called Booth, said he had an errand to run, then left. I don't know where he went!"

Hodgins groaned. "Okay. I'll keep her out of everyone's hair."

Angela flashed him the smile that still melted him. "Great! She's on her way. I sent her to get a bottle of potassium cyanide."

He looked at her funny. "Why?"

"Well, I had to get a few minutes to warn you. And that was the only chemical I could come up with off the top of my head!"

"Do you know what potassium cyanide is?" he asked.

"Well, yeah!"

Casey rushed in the door. "What do we need cyanide for?" Casey asked. "We're not killing the lab rats, are we?"

Hodgins grinned at Angela and mouthed 'You owe me!'. "I was kidding with Angela and she thought I was serious. No, we're not killing the lab rats."

"Oh," she said. "Okay. So what did you want?"

He mentally prepared for the coming argument. "The Russians had nothing to do with Kennedy. The Cubans and the teamsters were in on it together."

Angela rolled her eyes as she slipped out the door, Casey's reply following her: "You have to be kidding! The Cubans had neither the power nor the resources to pull off a cover-up of that magnitude! And while the teamsters had both, what they lacked was the cohesiveness to keep that many people silent!"

Angela was watching and listening through the door when Zack came up beside her. "What are they fighting about?"

"Oh, they're not fighting," Angela assured him. "Sadly enough, this is them having fun."

Zack looked very confused, as Casey shouted "You don't have even one shred of evidence! You're pulling conspiracy theories out of your ass rather than giving it rational thought! You'll soon be one of those people blaming the Baptists!"

"Spoken like a true Catholic!" he retorted.

"Maybe we should intervene?" asked Zack.

Angela shrugged. "Maybe."

Zack entered the room. "What are you fighting about?" he asked.

"Fighting?" asked Casey.

"We're not fighting," said Hodgins.

Casey smiled. "We were just expressing a difference of opinion."

"At the top of your lungs?" Zack inquired, still not convinced.

Hodgins put a hand on Casey's good shoulder. "Sure. Just having a little fun." He looked down at Casey. "We'll start in on spontaneous human combustion later."

Angela looked over her shoulder and saw the thumbs-up from Brennan, who unfortunately was confused and put her thumb out to the side. Angela showed her the proper way to do it, and she corrected it. But, incorrect or not, the message was clear. "Okay, guys, I'm hungry. You all want to go to Wong Fu's?"

"Sure!" said Hodgins as if it was the first he had heard of it.

"Me, too," agreed Zack.

"Okay," agreed Casey.

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Casey still didn't suspect a thing as they drove to the resteraunt, but as soon as she saw the "CLOSED" sign on the door, she became suspicious. "Why is it closed?" she asked. No one answered her, though, and they all walked on in as if they hadn't noticed.

Casey stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the inside. Dozens of balloons filled the dining room, and there was a big banner that said "Happy Birthday Casey!" She drew in a deep breath, totally speechless. "What is all this?" she asked in wonder.

Zack put his arms around her and kissed her. "Your birthday party, Casey. Did you forget?" She nodded, in shock. Zack led her to the table, and sat down beside her.

She looked around. The whole team was there, plus Booth and Cam, Terry, and a few of the firefighters from her department. She hadn't made many friends in D.C., but they had covered all their bases. Sid brought food, ice cream, and a huge red velvet cake. Casey smiled, talked, joked and laughed. She blushed when they sang "Happy Birthday".

But she just wasn't herself. She faked it well enough, and Zack thought he was the only one who noticed. He watched her quietly, waiting for a moment when he could talk to her alone. Also, he had her present in his pocket that Booth helped him pick out. It had been his idea, but given the nature of the gift, he had no idea what he was looking for.

Finally, when everyone was starting to leave, he pulled her off to the side. "Happy birthday," he said, kissing her. She put her arms around him and clung to him, and he could feel her heart racing. "What's wrong?" he asked.

She forced a smile. "Nothing," she said.

He looked her right in the eye. "Something. Tell me."

She was no longer able to keep the eye contact. "I've never had a birthday party before. Birthdays have never really been a reason to celebrate."

Angela had come to him with the conversation from the other night, and so he had already figured out that she had been abused. This was just one more piece of the puzzle, one that he wasn't sure he wanted to see the picture of, but some how he had to. Like she had needed to see his back after that incident in the bar. But now was not the time to push, so instead of asking questions that she probably wouldn't answer he simply said, "When you're ready to talk, I'll listen." She nodded, still looking at the floor.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black velvet box. "If you're not much for birthdays, how do you feel about birthday presents?"

Her face changed instantly from the disturbed expression she had worn to a small smile and she opened the box and took out a fine silver chain. A St. Florian medal hung at the end. She looked up at Zack with a big smile. "Thank you," she said, kissing him. She offered it to him and unfastened her other one. He clasped it behind her neck, and she put her arms around him.

He simply held her for a long moment, wishing he could come up with one of what Hodgins called his boy-wonder, Rain Man ideas to fix what was inside her, hurting her. But what was broken inside couldn't be fixed by a genius forensic anthropologist. If they could be fixed, it was only by Zack Addy, the boy in love with her.

"Casey!" called Booth from the doorway. "Care to go for a ride?"

"Why?" Zack asked.

Booth frowned at him. "Don't worry, I'll have her back soon. I hate to pay late charges." Zack wasn't sure what that meant, but he did know that as Casey started to pull away, he had a strong instinct to pull her back to him, not letting go. He didn't understand it, but it was there. Maybe it was his realization that he couldn't help her.

"Its okay, Zack. I'll be back soon." She adjusted the sling on her arm and followed Booth.

Zack felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't explain. If he believed in premonitions, maybe…

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"So," she asked as she and Booth pulled out of the parking lot. He was acting really strange, almost pissed off at her, like that night after the fight. She was unsure about what she had done, but felt sure she had done something. "What's on your mind?"

"How old were you when you got your driver's license?"

Casey had expected several things, but this was not one of them. "Sixteen, why?"

Booth slammed on the brakes, stopping dead and throwing Casey into the dashboard. He whipped the car into a parking lot and stared her right in the eye. "Then why is there nothing on record about Casey McKnight until six years ago today. Your 18th birthday. Who are you?"

She looked at her shoes. "You know who I am. Casey McKnight, semi-fearless grad student, clumsy firefighter, damn good tennis player."

He was still staring at her. "I don't like being lied to."

She unbuckled her seatbelt. "I'm not lying to you. I am who I am!"

"Oh, so now you'll pretend to be a philosopher? Confuse me with double talk? People don't forget when they get their license."

She reached for the door handle, and Booth hit the power locks. "What the Hell do you want from me?!" she demanded. "What do you want me to say? That I have a past?"

"I know you have a past! What I want to know is what is in that past that is bad enough to lie to me and my team. Why are you trying to hide who you are?"

She pulled at the door handle, but finally turned to look at Booth. "I'm not hiding who I am, I'm just plain hiding!"

Booth sighed. "I don't know what that means. Look, if you've done something-"

"I haven't done anything wrong! I tried to do what was right! Now, all I want to is live this life and be safe!" Tears welled up in her green eyes, and she went on. "I don't even know what it feels like to be safe! And now you want to know who I am! If I tell you, none of us will be safe!"

"Huh?"

"If I tell you my real name, I'll be signing my own death warrant, and Zack's, and probably yours and Dr. Brennan's and everyone elses too!"

"What are you talking about? Casey, or whoever you are, this is me! Whatever is going on, I'm your friend. You can talk to me about it. If someone's trying to hurt you, I can help!" This had taken an odd turn. What was she hiding?

"Yeah, right!" she spit out in a bitter tone. "Like the FBI was going to protect me six years ago?"

He shook his head. "I don't know anything about that. What happened six years ago?"

"I was told they would protect me if I helped them, but they couldn't do it."

"But this is me," he argued. "You know if I promise you something, it will happen! I can protect you."

"Can you protect Zack? Or Hodgins? Or Dr. Brennan? You can't protect us all!"

"Why would someone hurt them?"

"To hurt me!"

Booth shook his head. This was getting him nowhere. "Does Zack know? Or are you lying to him too?"

"I'm not lying!" Her eyes could have shot daggers through him.

"You are since we don't even know your real name!" His face softened to what he hoped looked hurt. "What would it hurt? Just for me to run your name through the computer? Your real name?" His eyes pled with hers. "I'm your friend, Casey. Let me help you."

He looked sincere. She wanted to believe him. She had carried this for too long. "You promise you won't tell the others? Not even Zack?"

"Of course."

Her eyes burned with tears she would not let fall. "I mean it. You take this to your grave, and you protect us."

He nodded somberly. What was she hiding?

She shrank back in the seat, as if trying to make herself as small as possible. "My name is Martina Dalton."

He sat in stunned silence as she recounted a story that was sure to give him nightmares.


	14. The body

A/N: WARNING!!! Things are about to get a little dark. Violence, abuse, just generally dark stuff. Starting into Casey's story, and it is not pretty! Lots of Angst in the future for Zack, and some for Booth as well. Sorry this is a little short, but we'll see about another update this evening. Hope you enjoy! Please review!

Hodgins knew something was wrong the second he set foot in the lab. Of course, it didn't take a genius; Angela's pretty face was streaked with tears, Dr. Brennan was simply staring down at a set or remains rather than examining them, and Booth was cradling his right hand in a manner Hodgins was very familiar with. It was obvious that he had hit something. Not a person, the way he was holding it said he had hit something hard and unyielding, a wall or door. Frightened, he rushed up to the platform to see what was wrong.

The body was gruesome, of course, most of the ones they got were, but he could see nothing that would have his friends so torn up. Burned beyond recognition, they would have to employ all their special skills to get an ID. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Angela burst into fresh tears. "Jack, we…" She had no idea how to tell him, but she didn't have to. Before her mouth was even shut, he saw it: A charred silver cross with the firefighter's symbol hung from the corpse's neck.

All color drained from his face. "Oh, God…" he began, then turned away. He was afraid he would be sick. Finally composing himself, he turned back to Booth. "What happened?"

Booth recited what he knew from the scene mechanically. "Police were dispatched to a report of a car fire over a hill outside of town. The found her Jeffersonian Institute Card and called me. The victim's-" He swallowed the bile in her throat. "Casey's car was burned. I brought her here."

Another terrifying thought popped into Jack Hodgins' mind. "Uh, where's Zack?"

Everyone froze. "He's not with you?" Brennan asked.

Hodgins shook his head. "I knocked on his door forever this morning, and he never answered. I assumed he stayed with-" He looked back at the remains, and fought once again to keep his breakfast down.

"You didn't go in?" Angela demanded. "As many times as you've barged in on him and dragged him out of bed? Why not today?"

He looked uncomfortable. "I quit doing that since they got together. Didn't want to walk in at a bad time and see…more than I needed to see," he explained miserably.

"What are we going to do?" Angela asked.

Brennan sighed. "I guess we start by determining the cause of the accident."

Booth knew. And he was going to find the person responsible, and chances of him actually making an arrest were very slim. Even this team wouldn't be able to identify the body when he was done. But first, he had a promise to keep, something Casey would have certainly deemed more important than finding her killer. "You guys see what you can find. Call me if you need me."

"Where are you going?" Brennan demanded. "We might need you here!"

"I'm going to find Zack!"

"Am I lost?" Came a confused voice from the doorway, his hair still wet from his shower. Sorry I'm late." He glared daggers at Hodgins. "My ride left without me."

"Zack!" exclaimed Dr. Brennan.

"Good," said Booth. "You're okay. No reason to panic."

""You're panicking because I'm late? I'm not usually so irresponsible, but it's no reason to worry…But there's something you're not telling me, isn't there?" He looked from one somber face to the next, and put two and two together. "Where's Casey? I called her for a ride, but she didn't answer so I assumed she was here. But I know you don't like us to make assumptions, Dr. Brennan, and this one was obviously wrong, so what's going on here?"

Booth finally took a deep breath. "Zack, I'm so sorry. There was a car crash this morning. It was bad."

Zack looked like he had been punched in the gut. All the air left his lungs, and Hodgins stepped quickly to his side in case he was going to collapse. After a second, he composed himself. "Is she here?"

Booth was confused. "Zack, maybe you didn't understand. She didn't make it, crashed into a tree and-"

"I got that, Booth! I asked if she was here! If she was dead, and if she was in a crash there was probably a fire, and then you'd bring her here. Is she here?"

Dr. Brennan nodded. "Yes. She's here."

"I want to see her."

Angela looked like she was going to cry again, this time for Zack rather than Casey. "Oh, Zack, that's not a good idea. She's…" How the hell was she going to finish that sentence?

His voice was a little stronger and more composed this time. "I want to see her!"

Dr. Brennan looked at him, decided that it was a sincere request rather than a masochistic obligation on the part of her young assistant. "Okay." She stood aside and pointed to the table.

He walked past her robotically, and she gathered everyone else. "Let's give him a few minutes," she said.

They walked about twenty feet from the young man as he grieved. They all watched him, trying to look like they weren't as he buried his head in his hands, wiped away the few stray tears, and shoved his hands violently into the pockets of his lab coat. Suddenly, he froze. His eyes got wide as saucers as he stared at something in his hand.

"What's he looking at?" asked Booth.

"I can't see it," said Angela.

He finally broke his paralysis, grabbed a pair of rubber gloves as he stumbled closer to the table. He had a scalpel digging into the body before anyone could reach him. "Zack, what are you doing?" asked Dr. Brennan.

He ignored her and continued the examination. "Zack, what's going on? What are you thinking?" Angela demanded, but it was as if he was in his own little world. Finally, after clearing away a large piece of the remaining muscle, he dropped the scalpel and turned to the rest of the team.

"It's not her."


	15. Martina Dalton

WARNING!!!!: Getting very dark and violent. Abuse, murder, disturbing images, and possibly the answer to who killed Kennedy in the near future. (kidding about the last part) For everyone who wanted to know what was going on with Casey, why she was so screwed up. Well, here's the answer. And Zack is going to act like what may seem OOC, but I like to think of it as character developement after what I've put him through. Hope this lives up to what I've built it up to be. Please review! (Did I say earlier that they weren't mine?)

"What?" exclaimed Booth.

Hodgins was a little more sympathetic. "Look, Zack, I know we've been through this before, but…"

"It's not her!" Zack insisted. "I can see how you would think it's just wishful thinking, but it's not and I can't believe that you didn't think of it, Dr. Brennan, but of course you had no reason to look for it and when I found it I had to check and-"

Angela grabbed him by his shoulders. "Zack, What are you talking about? What did you find?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words. Dr. Brennan took it as a lack of actual evidence, and pointed out a few simple flaws in his theory. "Zack, it was her car, right down to the little alien stickers on either side of her back windows. Cam did a visual match on one of her hairs from the scene and one from her Superman cap Angela borrowed. That's her necklace, Zack. I'm sor-"

Zack dug in his lab coat pocket. "This necklace?" he asked, pulling it out and holding it up. "The one I took off of her at her birthday party last week to put on the St. Florian medallion Booth helped me pick out? The one that I forgot in my lab coat pocket?"

They looked at each other, confused. "What does that mean?" asked Angela.

Zack threw his hands up in frustration. "Isn't anyone listening? It means it's not her!"

"That is a little odd, Zack, but it doesn't prove anything," said Dr. Brennan gently.

The young scientist looked like he was going to hit someone. "I know that! That's why I was examining the body! Look!" He took the scalpel and pointed to the unmarred shoulder bone. "We all saw Casey's MRI, where the break was. This humerus has never been broken!"

Brennan's eyes widened. "You're right, Zack. It isn't her." She looked thoroughly confused. "But that doesn't make sense! The visual match was identical. That a one in at least five million, maybe more. What are the chances that whoever did this could find one?"

Booth looked at the body. "Pretty good, since Casey had an identical twin."

Everyone turned to stare at him as if he suddenly had three heads.

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Casey came to in the dark, and at first she thought she was blind. It took her a few minutes to realize the position she was in, arms tied behind her back and her feet tied together. The bone had almost healed in her shoulder, she had taken the sling off a few days earlier, but the position sent bolt after bolt of pain through her. She was sitting up against the wall. Trying to pull away from the wall, she realized that she was tied to the wall as well.

She struggled and squirmed for a while, trying to work her way loose, but she knew it was futile. She was here for a while, and she knew she was probably going to die here. The room it's self wasn't familiar. It was different, so they had to be in a new place. There was no way to know how long she had been unconscious, so they could be anywhere by now. She wasn't even sure how she got wherever she was. The last thing she remembered, she had been driving home from the lab. Now she had woken up here, with her head all but splitting open. Well, this sucked.

While she didn't know specifically where she was, she knew why she was there. She was there because after six years, she had broken a vow to keep her mouth shut. Somehow when Booth ran her name, they were able to trace it. They had found Booth and followed him, or accessed the database or something. The how didn't matter. She had told someone who she was, and they had found her. Now, she was going to die for betraying them. For doing the right thing and saving herself in the process. For escaping with both body and heart intact.

The door opened and let in a little slice of light. It fell on her face, and she blinked at the sudden brightness. She took in the silhouette in the doorway and tried not to tremble. In a voice that was stronger than she felt, she forced a smile. "Hi, Mom. You couldn't just bring over a casserole like a normal mother?"

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"Okay, guys," said Booth, getting back in the swing of things. "Here's the plan. You see what you can get from the body. I'll be on my cell if you find anything."

"Where are you going?" Brennan demanded.

"I'm going to find Casey, where else? C'mon Zack!"

Zack's eyes widened. "You want me to come with you?"

"Do you know where she lives?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Then you know more than me. Come on!"

This time the younger man didn't need an engraved invitation.

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"So, what are you -we- looking for?" Asked Zack as Booth struggled to pick the lock on Casey's door. The FBI agent ignored him. "What did Casey tell you about her past? She was abused, wasn't she?"

Booth looked up at him, irritated. "Remember the part where you don't ask questions, you just do what I say?"

Zack had put up with Booth treating him like an annoyance, like the little cousin that tags along too much, for way too long. Finally, he snapped. "Look, Booth, you invited me along. This isn't a golf game and I'm not your caddy! This is my girlfriend who's missing or dead or being tortured. I want to know what's going on, what she's been so afraid of, and who the hell has her! Now, I'm going to give you my key so you can stop playing with that lock pick and we're going inside. You are going to tell me everything you know about her, followed by what we are looking for. Then, we are going to go rescue Casey, and shoot whoever gets in our way. Okay?"

Booth swallowed hard. When had this kid grown a set of balls? Had Casey really been that much of an influence on him? He didn't dare ask. Instead, he said, "Why didn't you tell me you had a key?"

Zack looked at him with a darker expression than Booth had ever seen on the innocent young face. "You told me not to talk." He handed Booth his key ring, holding up a key.

Booth let them in, and looked around. The apartment was small, comfortably messy. Zack sat down in her favorite wicker mushroom chair. Her firefighter sweatshirt was slung over the back of it, and he pulled it down into his lap. Booth sat heavily on the worn blue couch opposite Zack. "I guess it's story time, huh?" Zack waited patiently, and Booth popped his knuckles. "You know she's going to be pissed at me for telling you."

Zack ran his fingers over the screen-print of the maltese cross on the sweatshirt. "If we don't find her, it won't matter."

Booth was dizzy from the rate at which Zack was going from an annoying kid to a determined man, and back again. He also found himself unable to suppress the urge to comfort him. Putting his hand on Zack's knee, he said "Hey, come on! We'll find her. And she'll be fine. She lived through this for 18 years, she can survive it now."

Zack looked up sharply. "So Casey was abused?"

Booth hated to tell the young man what his girlfriend had been through, hated to even think about it, but Zack was right. He couldn't actually help if he didn't know what they were up against. "Abused wasn't the word for it. Or even the worst of what happened. And her name isn't Casey. She changed it. Her real name is Martina Dalton."

He paused to plan his next words, and Zack spoke up. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

"Because it's very similar to Melissa Dalton. The-"

"Most notorious female serial killer in recent history," said Zack, suddenly remembering the case. "Over twenty victims found buried in her flower garden, including her three children."

Booth shook his head. "Only the body of one of her children was ever found. One of the twin girls was presumed dead, had been missing for a few weeks. The other girl ran away before her 18th birthday party and went straight to the FBI field office with pictures, audio tapes, and a testimony good enough to all but send her mother to Gitmo. Apparently four years earlier at her older brother's 18th birthday party, her mother served the cake and ice cream, lit the candles, and then blew her son's brains out before putting the ice cream back in the freezer and demanding the girls eat all of their cake before getting up from the table. Martina figured with her sister missing and most likely dead, she wasn't going to live through the day. The danger of running away wasn't so dangerous when death was pretty much an imminent guarantee."

Zack wasn't sure if he had even breathed during the story. Booth was still using the name 'Martina' so it was easy to pretend it wasn't his Casey they were talking about. "What did the FBI do? Didn't they believe her?"

"Yeah, they believed her. They were just too late. By the time they got back to the house, it had been abandoned. Melissa had simply taken a few things and disappeared. She still hasn't been found."

"But what about C- Martina?"

Booth sighed. "They got her a new identity, moved her to Tennessee. She was brilliant, so when they changed her high school records over, she was instantly accepted to Vanderbilt University, and you pretty much know the rest."

Zack leaned his cheek on the sweatshirt as if it anchored him to the real world, away from this nightmare. He felt like someone had slammed him in the head with a sledgehammer. This couldn't be happening. This was insane! Casey couldn't be…no way! The woman Booth was talking about would have to be screwed up beyond all belief, if she was even able to function in the real world. He opened his mouth to say so, even got out an unrecognizable syllable before Booth held up a hand, and hissed, "Hush!"

He was about to get really pissed, reiterate what he had said earlier, plus a few more things he had just thought of, when he heard the sound that Booth had heard; someone was trying to get in the apartment. Zack shot Booth a deer-in-the-headlight look, and FBI instincts took over. Booth crept over by the door, and Zack followed. As the door creaked open, Booth launched himself at the intruder, pinning the intruder to the ground with his forearm to the other man's throat. "FBI! Don't even think about moving!"

He had forgotten about Zack until he realized the younger man was on the floor beside him, awkwardly holding Casey's switchblade. "Yeah, don't even think about it!"

Booth looked at him like he had lost his mind. "Where the Hell did you get that?!"

Zack never took his eyes off the intruder. "Coffee table," he replied innocently.

"Well, put it away before you stab yourself in the eye!" He turned his attention back on the man he was still holding by the throat. "And who the hell are you?!"

The man had surrendered, for all intents and purposes, laying his hands above his head palms up. "Agent Micheal Wilson. FBI, too." Booth looked skeptical. "Badge in my back pocket."

Booth wasn't willing to let him up yet. "Zack, check his back pockets." He chanced a look at his partner-in-crime, and saw that he was still holding the knife. "Dammit, kid, put the knife down!"

Zack's voice was very soft. "I don't know how to close it."

Booth sighed, then scooted off the newcomer. "This is why squints belong in the lab!" He grabbed the knife out of the smaller hand, pushed the button that made the blade disappear, all the while keeping his eyes on Agent Wilson. "Okay, your turn. Show your badge." He pulled it out of his pocket. Booth took it, and looked it over. Looks legit. Sorry about the rude welcome."

Wilson sat up then. "No problem. Oddly enough, I get that a lot. I assume you're looking for Marti too?"


	16. Agent Wilson

A/N: Zack is going to start acting a little different. Some might call it OOC, but I prefer to call it character developement based on what I've out him through. But seeing as how I'm the one who wrote it, I guess I have to defend it. But I just can't see him being the naive, wide-eyed kid with all this going on. Hope you enjoy this, please review!

Agent Wilson sat on the opposite end of the couch from Booth, and Zack was back in the chair. Booth noticed with slight amusement that Zack had put on the sweatshirt he had been playing with, and it fit him perfectly. It must have swallowed Casey whole. And somehow, Zack just didn't manage the firefighter look. He still looked like a young boy grieving for his lost girlfriend, but the expression on his face said…well, Booth wasn't sure what his face said, but it was definitely not something he had seen on Zack's face before. On someone else, he would have called it a possibility that the person could become dangerous. On the young squint, it just looked out of place.

Booth quickly introduced himself and Zack, then asked the question that had been trying to leak out of his mouth ever since the new agent had showed him his badge. "So, how do you know Cas…Marti?"

Wilson cleared his throat. "I was the agent originally assigned to her case. I was the one who was supposed to keep her safe."

"Great job," Zack muttered a little too loudly. Booth shot him a look, and Wilson dropped his head. Zack would have regretted causing the obvious pain on the agent's face had this been anyone but Casey. He still refused to think of her by the alien name Wilson was using.

Wilson was a very thin man with short blond hair spiked unevenly on the top of his head. He was almost as tall as Booth, but –what is the word?- wiry, maybe. Silver framed glasses covered sea-green eyes, but didn't give the illusion of weakness glasses sometimes gave men. Instead, it just magnified his eyes, which were already more expressive than most people's whole face. Right now, those eyes were downcast, not so much by Zack's uncharitable words than by the truth behind them. "I've kept an eye on her ever since she came to us. I guess I thought She was safe, and wasn't watching close enough. If I even knew how they found her…" He pinched the bridge of his nose like he had a headache. "I mean, the file is top secret, most agents can't even access it. How did they track her after all these years?"

Booth's eyes widened. "Why couldn't people access the file? I mean, us? That's a little excessive for witness protection, right?"

"Well," said Wilson. "There was some speculation of a leak in the FBI. We think Melissa was tipped off before we got there. Casey wasn't even supposed to be home from school when we got there, so she had to know somehow."

Booth thought he might be sick. This was all his fault. "Then when I ran her name through the computer, someone found her."

"She told you?!" Wilson demanded. "But she knew better!"

Booth felt about two inches tall, and the look Zack was giving him was only a few steps back from frightening. "I made her. I was concerned about what she was hiding, afraid it might be a threat to my team. I told her I would get her fired if she couldn't explain the gap in her story."

Zack jumped to his feet. "I can't believe you! You made her tell you all this, and it could cost her her life!" Booth felt like a heel, and he knew Zack was right, but what he noticed even more was the way he was acting. This wasn't Zack; this sort of anger and unpredictability was Casey, or even Hodgins, maybe even Bones, but not Zack. Quiet, mild-mannered little Zack Addy had come out of his shell over this woman, and Booth realized that the woman who could turn this scared little boy into a man was worth rescuing whether he knew her or not.

Wilson interviened before Zack could show him just how much he had grown. "Calm down, Dr. Addy. Booth didn't realize what he was doing. And that may not even be why it happened. We can't solve this if we're taking out our frustrations on each other."

Zack looked at Booth and reluctantly sat down. "Okay. So what do we do?"

"Well, Melissa was always very popular with the men. We could see if she's visiting any of the local clubs. That's where she tends to recruit her…associates. And then…Hey, what all did you guys touch in here?"

"Not much," said Booth. "At least, this time. Zack is over here a lot. They're…together."

"Well," said Zack "That depends on what you meant by together. We're dating, but if you mean sleeping together…well, technically we have been sleeping together, but not having sex yet." Booth looked at him like he was from another planet. "What do you think I am? She's recovering from a broken shoulder! We wanted to wait until it wouldn't hurt her." Both FBI agents stared at him, and he got it. "Oh, that look meant I should have kept my mouth shut, didn't it?" Booth nodded vigorously, and Zack blushed.

"Let's get this place fingerprinted," said Wilson.

"You think Melissa was here?" asked Booth.

"Not her, but I bet her accomplice was here. We find his fingerprints, we can trace him."

Booth pulled out his cell phone and called for the rest of the squints. While he was on the phone, Wilson looked into Zack's eyes. "I know you're upset, but you have to remember that she is still alive."

"How do you know?" Zack asked softly. Not in a challenging manner, just quietly, plainly, like a young man looking for a reason for hope.

"You must be very smart to have a PhD so young, right?" He nodded. "Well, look at this logically. Someone went to a lot of trouble to convince us that she is dead. If they wanted to kill her, they would have just killed her and left her body, not her sister's." He shook his head. "I thought Miranda had been killed before Marti ran. She said she hadn't seen her sister in weeks. Their mother must have had her locked up somewhere."

Zack shivered. "What was she like? I mean, before?"

Wilson wasn't sure how to answer that. He was sure Zack didn't want to know. "She was…very brave. Scared to death, but very determined to do the right thing." Zack seemed satisfied with the answer, but Wilson had to tell him the last part. "She told me that she didn't come to us to save her life. Said she was doing it because she would be dead soon, and when she was gone there would be nobody left to tell what happened. Then her mother would never be stopped." He straightened his glasses. "Then she said something I'll never forget. It's become my motto: We're the good guys. The minute we forget that, we're no better than the bad guys."

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The three of them were in Booth's car on their way to the lab for an update when Booth's phone rang. "Booth." He listened for a second. "Okay, we're heading that way now." Turning on his lights, he whipped the car around, then turned the light off. "They found a match. Darrell Thomas, released from prison last after ten years for rape and assault. 115 South Vine Street. Let's bring him in."

They turned onto Vine street and got behind the slowest old woman ever born in an ancient brown Pinto. Zack squirmed restlessly in the back seat. "Can't you turn your lights and siren on?"

"Sure, Zack. In fact, why don't I just call this guy up and ask politely if he would start walking and meet us halfway?"

"Should we call for backup?" Wilson asked.

Booth thought. They should. But he wasn't sure it was what he wanted. "Tell me, Wilson, just how by the book are you?"

"I'm in with whatever you're planning. I wish I could shoot every single person involved with her past and the current crisis."

"Zack?"

"Is what you're planning to do going to help us find Casey?"

"Hopefully."

"And punish the ones who hurt her?"

"Yeah."

His deep brown eyes had never looked so frightening. "What book?"


	17. Getting answers

Notes: WARNING! Violence, torture, abuse, more Zack acting weird. They're not mine (Except for Wilson, he's mine to do with as I please!), I just enjoy abusing them.

After everything else, apprehending Darrell Thomas was rather anti-climactic. They knocked, he opened the door. They arrested him. The idiot hadn't thought they would be on to him yet, thought he had nothing to fear. He was a smart-ass and a pain in the butt, and when they got to the car, Booth had to shove him in. The large man just grinned. "What are you charging me with?"

"Well, let's see…" said Booth, pretending to think. "We'll start with unlawful entry, trespassing, and then move up to kidnapping and murder. Anything else, guys?" He looked to Wilson and Zack.

"I'd have to say smelling that bad is at least a misdemeanor," said Wilson. Their suspect was at least six-foot-four, weighing over three hundred pounds, and smelled like he hadn't had a bath in a week.

"Gotta agree with you there," said Booth.

"You can't scare me!" the slime ball proclaimed. "You ain't got nothin' on me! And you never read me my rights!"

Booth grinned, forcing the humor into his voice. "That's okay. 'Cause we're not arresting you."

That slapped a little of the confidence off Thomas's face. "But you handcuffed me and everything! You can't do that without arresting me!"

"Sure we can!" said Wilson in the same forced-amused tone. "I bet you tied Marti Dalton up when you took her, right?"

Thomas was just stupid enough to fall for it. "But that was kidnapping! You're the law!"

"Not today, we're not!" said Booth, all the fake humor gone from his voice.

"Turn in over here," said Wilson, pointing to a secluded driveway almost covered over by overgrown trees.

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"What is this place?" Zack asked, the first words he had said since they met their suspect.

"Abandoned hospital," said Wilson. "No one has been around here in ever. Perfect place to be alone with our new friend." He helped Booth drag Thomas out of the back seat and to his feet. Unfortunately, their captive had inferred what was going on, and was less than cooperative. Booth and Wilson had to drag him inside with Zack trying to get his feet but mostly just getting kicked.

Wilson led them through a broken door of the decrepit old brick building and into what had once been a trauma room. They forced their captive into the chair. He was frantic now, fighting them actively. It took another set of handcuffs and a set of restraints they found in a drawer to secure him.

Once they were sure he wasn't going anywhere, the three kidnappers went out into the hallway to discuss strategy. "Well, what now?" asked Wilson.

"What, you don't have a plan?" asked Booth. "You brought us here, I thought you had a plan!"

"I had a location! I thought you had a plan!"

Booth ran his fingers through his hair. "Okay, we threaten him, smack him around a little, and see if he'll tell us where he took Casey." Wilson nodded, and Booth turned to Zack. "Zack, if you can't deal with this, wait out here."

"I'll be okay," he said flatly.

Booth looked at him. "Casey would not approve of this. We're not going to be the good guys here. We've already committed enough felonies to land us all in jail until we're too old to care."

"But it's the best idea we have to save Casey?"

"Yeah."

Zack actually looked in Booth's eyes, and it was enough to rattle Booth a little. Zack never looked him in the eye. Plus, the look he saw there was so out of place for the young scientist. Anger. Not like when he ignored him, or when he insulted him. Real, true anger, the kind he hadn't thought Zack capable of. "Then let's go!" he said.

Reassured, he led them back in. "Okay, Darrell. Here's the deal. You tell us where you took the girl, we take you home, Hell, I'll even buy you a pizza for dinner. If you don't tell us, this is going to get unpleasant. You don't want that, do you?"

Thomas looked at them like they had lost their minds. "I ain't telling you nothin'! Untie me! Let me go and I won't press any charges."

Booth looked at Wilson, who shrugged. Booth returned the shrug, then stepped up to Thomas and backhanded him hard enough to slam the back of his head into the chair. Stunned, he looked up at his captor as blood leaked from his busted nose. He turned and wiped the blood from his face on his shoulder, then looked defiantly back at Booth. "What, you gonna beat me up? What do you think that crazy bitch will do to me if I tell you? She'll stab me in my sleep, or pull a Loraina Bobbitt. I think I'll take my chances with you!"

Booth pulled out his gun. "Okay, you want to play that way?" he put the gun to the guy's chest. "Tell us or I pull the trigger!"

The man looked at him defiantly, and waited. Booth started to sweat. Finally, Zack spoke up. "Booth, you can't do it like that!"

Booth turned around to glare at him. "I told you if you couldn't handle it-"

Zack practically growled at him. "I didn't say I couldn't handle it, I said you were doing it wrong! He knows you won't kill him that easily and he's calling your bluff! He may not be a Rhodes scholar but he's not that stupid!"

Booth turned and offered him the pistol. "You can do better?"

Zack ignored the gun. "I'm sure I can." He walked calmly to dig through the cabinets, and came back to them holding two glass medicine vials and two syringes and pulled up a chair beside their prisoner. Unlike Booth, his face was completely unreadable, stone set, and he calmly drew up a full syringe of each, then looked at Thomas. In a very conversational voice, he addressed him. "Have you every heard of neurolic acid?" It was obvious that an answer was expected, so the captive shook his head. "I didn't think so," said Zack in his best 'I'm-a-genius-but-I'll-try-to-put-it-on-your-level' tone, holding the first syringe over the man's thigh. With only a second's pause to make sure he was paying attention, then jammed it into the muscle.

Thomas fought mightily, but had to let out a small cry as Zack injected the burning liquid into his leg. Fire tore through his entire lower body as he squirmed around in the chair. Zack continued in the same frightening monotone. "It's what they give to patients with degenerative brain diseases and certain cancers. If they're terminal, with no hope of recovery and are in enough pain, this kills the nerves. Unfortunately, it's very painful in its self. But people who are in enough pain don't care, just as long as it promises an end to the pain." He was staring at the man who kidnapped his girlfriend like he was a specimen in the lab, one who's reaction he wanted to study and play with. "But when it's given to perfectly healthy people, they describe the pain as unbearable. Pain can be such a subjective thing. To someone who is dying of cancer, what I just gave you would be a miracle. I'm sure you would call it something else, wouldn't you?"

It was written all over Thomas's face. The fire in his leg was flaring out from the injection site, spreading like wildfire. "Hurt's doesn't it?" Zack said again, sounding almost sympathetic. "Well, let me give you a ray of hope. This will end within an hour one way of another. One way is for me to let this run it's course. In that case, you will die within an hour."

"Die?!" Thomas exclaimed. "I thought you said this was medicine!"

"Well, yeah," said Zack. He held up the syringe. "Two point five milliliters is the absolute maximum dose, and even that can be fatal in ten percent of patients. That risk doesn't bother most terminal patients. Bothers you though, doesn't it? Oh, and I gave you over ten milliliters. You will die a slow and painful death. First you will lose control of your legs. Now, if I give you this," he said, holding up the other syringe, "no harm, no foul. If you get it in the first seven minutes after you get that. That gives you-" he glanced at his watch. "three minutes before permanent damage occurs. So, in that three minutes, anything you want to tell us?" Thomas's eyes were as wide as saucers. Zack almost nonchalantly turned to Booth. "In three minutes, he'll never be able to walk again. Six minutes and he…well, he won't have much use for the ladies. And for that matter, won't want to use the bathroom in front of anyone. Fifteen minutes, and the bathroom thing won't be an issue, he'll have to have a catheter for the rest of his life. Thirty and he'll start vomiting uncontrollably, but it won't really matter, because he'll be unconscious in twenty. Forty-five and he'll start-"

Booth was shocked. This wasn't Zack! Zack was a sweet, innocent kid! Now he was torturing someone? What the hell?! Then it hit him. Zack wasn't the same anymore. Casey had made him into a man, and if this is what it took to rescue his girl, then so be it. He couldn't say he wouldn't do the same for Bones. And was sure that Hodgins would for Angela. It was part of being a man, the whole alpha male thing Bones was always talking about. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of their captive breaking.

"Okay! Okay, I'll tell you! Give me the antidote!"

Zack leaned in real close. "Tell me first."

He rattled off an address. He was starting to get very sleepy, and it frightened him. Zack stood up and turned to go. "Wait! What about me?"

Zack held up the syringe and pressed the plunger down, spraying the liquid all over the man's shirt. "I lied. It's too late for you." He nonchalantly turned to the two agents. "Come on! We have to go get Casey."

Booth ran up and put a hand on his shoulder, slowing him down. "Zack, what happened back there?"

Zack looked at him innocently. "I found out where Casey was."

Booth was still a little shocked. "But did you have to kill him to do it? I mean, Casey's not going to be happy with me if I've let you slip over to the dark side or something."

Zack smiled, a real smile this time. "Booth, don't pretend to be a geek. It doesn't work for you. Have you ever pulled a muscle in your back?"

That seemed to come out of left field, so it took Booth a second to answer. "Uh…yeah, I guess."

Zack continued. "You know that shot they give you, the muscle relaxer that hurts so bad when they inject it? It's called Robaxin. Burns like fire. I didn't kill him, just gave him enough Robaxin to convince him of what I was saying. His leg felt like it was on fire, I made up all that neurolic acid stuff to scare him into telling us where she was. He'll wake up a little sore, but otherwise just fine."

Booth couldn't help but grin. Damn, this kid was smart. And it was hard to convince himself to stop calling him that. "I've heard jokes about it, but this is the first time I've ever seen someone tortured by being talked to death! Smart, Brain-boy!"

Zack blushed. "Come on! Let's go, we have to save Casey!"

The three of them raced for the car, Booth driving, and Wilson trying to navigate them toward the rural community that held the address they were given.

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Casey rolled over onto her side, trying to keep the blood from flooding her throat and choking her. She was finally untied, but the beating she had just taken had assured she wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight. She found it ironic that she had fallen through a floor two stories up and broken only one bone, but ten minutes with her mother and her hands tied behind her back, and she had at least three, depending on whether or not her ribs were actively broken or just cracked. She knew her ankle was broken, and probably her nose. She couldn't get the bleeding to stop. She wondered if Booth was looking for her. She hoped not. Booth should be protecting Zack. If he showed up here, he would be hurt. Or worse. She couldn't live with that. Time to face the facts: she was here to die, and if she could take the bitch that gave birth to her with her, she could die happy.


	18. Rescue?

Sorry this took so long, I have worked an outrageous ammount of overtime this week. I'll try not to keep you waiting this long again. Enjoy, and review!

"Uh… I'm not sure this is the best course of action," said Wilson.

"What?!" exclaimed Zack. "What is the best course of action? Wait until they leave her body for real?!" Booth didn't ad his own incredulity at Wilson's statement, but he didn't call Zack down either.

"No, not that we shouldn't go rescue her, just that we shouldn't rush into it. We need a plan. A plan and weapons. Not that Zack's evil-MacGyver act wasn't brilliant back there, but the men in her life are stupid. Melissa Dalton is not. We had better have a good plan, an armada to rival David Koresh, and a healthy dose of luck to boot." He sighed. "I've seen first-hand what this woman can do."

"So what do you suggest?" asked Booth cautiously. He had faced situations in which he was outnumbered 6 to 1, and worse, but this guy didn't think they could take one woman. Of course, having a hostage complicated the issue, but it was workable.

"We go scope out the residence, see what's what. Then go back to my place, regroup, make a plan, and come back armed to take Fort Knox."

It seemed like a good plan to the professional side of Booth, even though the side that saw Casey as a little sister was appalled at the idea of leaving her with that woman even a second longer than necessary. Zack, on the other hand had no professional side to turn to. "We can't just leave Casey! That bitch could kill her at any time! We have to go now!"

Wilson weighed the balance in his mind for a moment. He knew that the girl wouldn't be killed any time soon. And he could even reassure the younger man of that. But at what cost? Finally, he had to make sure Zack knew they had time. "She's not going to kill her in the next few days, Zack."

Wilson had been hoping in vain that he would just accept that as a fact, but that was not the case. "How do you know that?"

Wilson swallowed. "Marti- Casey, if you prefer- betrayed her. Melissa isn't the type to…well, to simply kill her. There will be a great deal of time taken, and while it will be most unpleasant for your friend, she's a tough kid. She'll be okay for a few more hours."

"Define 'okay'," said Zack, the anger creeping back into his voice, and Booth found himself unconsciously edging between the two in case Zack did something he'd regret.

Wilson looked at the ground, and when he looked back into the acid-filled brown eyes that were staring him down, his own eyes conveyed how much he wished he didn't have to say this. "Zack, what is going to hurt M- Casey more? A beating, maybe a little worse, but nothing she hasn't already lived through before, or being forced to watch while you, or Booth, or is tortured? If we fail, that's what will happen. Do you want to make it that much harder on her?"

Tears blurred the acid from Zack's eyes, washed away the anger. "Okay," he conceded, voice barely above a whisper. "You guys lead, I'll go along."

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Two hours later, Wilson parked the car half a mile away from the secluded house Melissa Dalton had rented under a false name. The single story building had wire-covered windows and basement access in the back. "Okay," said Booth. "Here's the plan. You two cover the front. I bust in through the basement window, hopefully grab Casey, bring her back here. Zack takes her away, to a hospital if necessary, then we call for back-up. Any questions?"

"Yeah," said Zack. "First, why not call for back-up now? If the FBI wants this woman so bad, why don't we have a SWAT team, special ops, and Eliot Ness at our disposal? Why are we alone?"

Booth rolled his eyes. He had long ago accepted his teamwork with the squint squad, but it still annoyed him in situations where they didn't understand. "Because," he said slowly, as if explaining it to a child, "if we show up with a circus like that, she puts a bullet first in Casey's head, then in her own. We lose, Casey loses, things go to Hell. Leave the procedural calls to the professionals! Anything else?"

"Not question-wise, but there is something else."

"Well?" Booth was starting to lose patience.

"I'm coming with you."

"The Hell you are!"

Zack pulled out Casey's switchblade. "You work with a partner so you have someone to watch your back. You need me."

Booth rolled his eyes. "I need Wilson, or Sully, or even Bones. I don't need you. I need someone with more than book-smarts!"

Zack stood up a little straighter. "I'm going to be there when you find Casey. I am going to carry her out myself. The question is whether we go in together or I wait until you're out of sight and then follow. If I'm with you, I can watch your back."

Booth thought he might be a little safer with his back exposed rather than a pissed off, untested forensic anthropologist watching it, but it was clear he wasn't going to win. "Did you ever figure out how to close that thing?"

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Booth crept quietly around to the back of the house. Even at this late hour, every light in the house was on. They never saw a shadow or anything moving, however, so he couldn't get a fix on how many were there or where they were. They crawled down the small incline to the basement door. Booth checked the door over carefully, and tried to figure out what the best idea was. He tested the strength of the window, ran his hands over the hinges, felt the door frame. The easiest way would be to break the window, but that would make noise and attract attention. As he comtemplated the problem, Zack reached up to the doorknob, unlocked it, and cracked the door.

Booth looked at him for a moment, and he shrugged. "If you want to keep someone in, you don't lock it from the inside," he whispered.

The agent handed Zack the flashlight so he could hold the gun and still have a free hand and they crept inside. As Zack cut the flashlight beam around the dusty basement, he found something that made his heart freeze in his chest. Slumped in a corner, covered in blood, was Casey. He ran to her, relieved that she was breathing.

Booth was only a few steps behind him. He took the flashlight, placed it between his knees, and began trying to untie her. Zack checked her injuries as best he could, and it nearly made him sick. She was unconscious, blood not yet dried coming from her mouth and nose, bruises obscuring her beautiful face, her left eye swollen shut. Booth was struggling to untie the insane tangle of rope holding her to the rusty eye-bolt in the wall, without success. "Here, give me that knife!" he whispered urgently.

Zack pulled out the switchblade and pushed the button. Booth flinched slightly as it popped open, and he was sure he would never be able to get used to the idea of Zack with a weapon. He started cutting, but the tangle was so extensive that it would take a few minutes. Zack stayed focused on the woman he loved. "Casey? Can you hear me? It's Zack. Come on, wake up! Please?"

Finally, she tried to open her eyes, and whimpered slightly. "Zack?" She straightened slightly. "Booth?"

"I'm here too," the agent replied from behind her.

She was wide awake now. "What are you doing here?!" she demanded. "Booth, you were supposed to keep him safe! You promised!"

"I couldn't stop him, Casey," said Booth. "The most I could do was come with him."

Just then, they heard a key in the lock, and froze. Casey's eyes, at least the one that she could open, got very wide. "She's coming! You have to go!"

"No way!" Zack whispered back. "I'm not leaving you! She knows someone is here, so we have to get you out!"

"I can't get these untied. Look, Zack, get out of here! I'll stay, you get Wilson. Come in and save the day." It wasn't Booth's best plan, but it would have to do. If the killer heard someone in here and they both were gone, she would kill Casey and run.

"No," said Zack. "You go, I'll stay." Casey opened her mouth to protest, but Zack went on. "Booth, you have a much better chance of getting us out of here! Now GO!"

Booth looked troubled at leaving not one but both of the youngest, most vulnerable squints in the hands of a monster, but he knew Zack was right. He nodded. All he could think of to say was "I'm sorry."

He closed the door a split second before the other one opened. A middle-age woman with short blond hair opened the door. Zack froze at the sight of how much she looked like Casey. The eyes, the skin, everything. Then he noticed the shotgun.


	19. Bloodbath

A/N: Sorry this took so long and is so short, but I hope to have another one soon. This is very violent and somewhat depressing, and I left it at a very cruel place. Sorry, but I couldn't resist. Enjoy and review, even if it's only to cuss me out for leaving the chapter like this!

"So," said the woman holding the shotgun. "Looks like your friend missed you so much he wanted to join you. That's nice. I enjoy company. Marti, don't be rude, introduce your friend!"

Casey's voice was shaking. "His name is Zack. We work together."

Her words and the attempt at the callous tone hurt Zack in the irrational part of his mind. He knew she was downplaying his role in her life to try to protect him from the older woman's wrath, but it still felt like a rejection. Though he knew he would endure whatever their captor threw at him before he would deny her, he also knew how badly that would hurt her, so he kept his mouth shut.

Melissa reached out and slapped her daughter hard enough to roll her eyes back in her head. "Don't lie to me! He's your boyfriend, and he's the one who hurt Darrell!" She turned to Zack, keeping the shotgun pointed at Casey, knowing that was the way to control her newest toy. "He managed to get home a few minutes ago, told me everything. Is he going to die?"

Zack thought about saying yes just to piss her off, but not with the shotgun to Casey's chest. "No. I made it all up. There's no such thing as neurolic acid. Just a plain old muscle relaxer."

"Okay," she said. "Now where are your friends?"

Zack swallowed. "They left. It scared them when they thought I killed that guy and they ran off like terrified little kids! Said I'd crossed the line, and I never got the chance to tell them I was lying." He set his mouth in a grim line, but the fact that his lips were trembling ruined the effect.

Melissa rolled her eyes, then swung the shotgun around, striking him in the side of the head. He fell quickly, stunned, then sat back up with a hand wiping away the blood from the gash at his temple. "Do you think I'm stupid? They're around here somewhere. And 'that guy' as you called him, is to me what you are to my daughter. You tortured him, told him he was going to die horribly. He still can't hardly walk, says it feels like his leg is on fire!" She pulled out a knife from her pocket, opened it, and before Zack could even react she jammed it into Casey's thigh. Zack yelped, and started toward her but Melissa stopped him with a look. Casey, meanwhile, bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood to keep from crying out, although he wasn't sure if it was from pride, to spare him the pain, of to keep her mother from getting any more enjoyment out of her.

Melissa turned back to Zack, picking him up roughly by the collar of his shirt and put him on his feet. At this exact moment, Casey managed to break through the ropes that Booth had managed to weaken. She pulled the knife out of her thigh and lunged at her mother. The older woman dropped the shotgun in surprise as the girl hit her from behind.

They struggled on the floor, Casey trying to stab her mother and Melissa easily holding her hands. On a good day, as an adult now, Casey could probably have taken her mother. But after the beatings she had endured, the lack of food, water, and sleep, she was just too weak. She was losing badly when Zack came to his senses and grabbed the shotgun. "Hold it!"

Both women ignored him. Casey wasn't about to stop trying, and Melissa knew he couldn't pull the trigger without killing them both. Helpless and unsure, Zack could only watch and wish Booth and Wilson would hurry up. What was taking them so long?!

He hadn't even noticed that his back was to the door that led upstairs until he heard the click of a pistol being cocked. As he turned his head, he heard a familiar male voice. "If you even breathe funny, you're a dead man." Thomas. Zack had forgotten about him. The man raised his voice again. "Kid, you're gonna drop that knife if you don't want to have to wash your man's brains out of your shirt."

Casey looked at them for a moment, unsure. She glanced at Zack, then at Thomas, then her mother. Finally at the knife and her own wrist. "I'm sorry, Zack." She plunged the knife into her arm and sliced. Blood spurted onto Melissa's face, and she jerked back. Thomas momentarily forgot about Zack and raced (as best he could with the limp) to Melissa's aid. They fought to get the knife out of Casey's wrist and hold her down.

Melissa slapped her. "You little bitch! You can't die yet! You can't get off that easy! You destroyed my life! Everything was fine until you ran off!" Casey fought and kicked from the floor, cradling her profusely bleeding wrist around her chest to keep them from getting the knife.

She couldn't figure out why Zack wasn't running. She had caused the distraction, had their full attention. She was going to die anyway, maybe this way she could save him and also spare herself whatever else her mother had planned. But Zack wasn't playing by the rules! He was still there, and…he had the shotgun again. That hadn't worked last time. She felt weak, she was losing the battle.

This time, Zack knew what to do. He couldn't shoot, but he remembered what Melissa did to him. Winding up like he had that one summer for little league, he slammed the barrel into Thomas's head. The man was dazed, but turned to face Zack. His gun went off, hitting Zack in the thigh. Just then, Booth and Wilson stormed down the stairs. "FBI!" he yelled. "Freeze!"

No one paid him any attention. Thomas turned toward them, tried to raise the pistol, and Wilson shot him dead center of the forehead. He fell backward, landing on Casey, who saw now that there was a chance. She pulled the knife out of her arm and jammed it into her mother's stomach. "Why doesn't anyone listen when I say that?!" Booth muttered exasperated.

Melissa picked up Thomas's gun before anyone could stop her and started shooting. One hit Booth in the leg and he hit the deck. One hit Wilson in the chest. Three to one, in favor of the lunatics. Booth tried to take aim at Melissa, but she sought cover behind Casey holding the gun to her head. Booth froze.

"Do it, Booth!" Casey insisted. The blood from her arm had not clotted entirely, but had slowed to a trickle. 'Next time I attempt suicide, I should do it when I'm less distracted!' she thought with as much of a smirk as she could manage. "Kill her now!"

Booth had Melissa trained in his sight, finger on the trigger, but couldn't do it. "She'll kill you!"

"Believe me, it's a good trade. Shoot her!"

It was a standoff, and Booth was the one who flinched. He tossed his weapon down; it landed at Casey's feet, but at least it was out of his hands. Melissa released her daughter. Just then, Zack, who had gone unnoticed until that moment, dragged himself toward Melissa with every intention of cold-cocking her just like he had done Thomas. A second before he could land the blow, Melissa turned, pointed the gun, and pulled the trigger. Zack fell in a spray of blood, and Casey's face lost all expression. While her mother was distracted by her latest victim, Casey picked up Booth's gun. "Mom!" she shouted, and her mother turned to face her. Casey leveled the pistol and emptied it into her mother's skull. As a reflex, the dying woman raised the gun and fired twice, hitting Casey in the chest and abdomen, before falling.

Casey looked around to Booth, the only other one still conscious. "I'm getting tired of finishing what the FBI can't do!" she proclaimed, then promptly collapsed.

Booth crawled toward the phone. His leg was on fire, but he had been shot before. He just prayed he wasn't the only one left to tell the story. He finally managed to grasp the receiver and dial 911. "This is Agent Booth with the FBI. I need an ambulance. Or several. And a coroner, and the police, and anyone else you can find. I have one who's for sure dead, four that may be, and I've been shot. Please hurry!" he gave the dispatcher the address and hung up. The last thought he had as he finally passed out too was that it looked like Jonestown in here.


	20. Shattered

A/N: this is very short and has religous themes to it. Also may be even more ooc for Zack but i think it is plausible. Plus I just couldn't leave it where it was overnight. I'm not that mean.

Booth felt like he should be kneeling, but it just wasn't possible. Even getting on his knees to pray would tear out the stitches that held the muscles in his thigh together. So he sat there in the pew thinking and reflecting over the last week. Wilson had been right. They had not been prepared enough, and the cost had been high. He could walk, sort of, but his leg still hurt badly. But he had been the lucky one. Two dead, one totally brain dead just waiting for his body to realize it, one in a coma, and one at least able to get around. If you could call the pitiful hurt-arm-hurt-leg-one-crutch shuffle Zack currently used getting around.

He watched the younger man hobble inside the chapel and struggle up to sit beside Booth. Zack looked terrible. Even after a week there was still very little color in the young man's skin, giving the normally pale scientist an almost ghostly appearance. A plaster cast with metal brackets in two different places. He was only able to use one crutch as his right arm was immobilized following the surgery to put his shoulder and the right side of his chest back together after Melissa's bullet tore through him. Bandages and the shoulder immobilizer like Casey had worn when she broke her shoulder were visible through the hospital gown and scrub pants the hospital had provided for him. He was silent, sitting there beside Booth, unsure of what to do or say.

Booth finally broke the silence. "Zack, I'm sorry. If I could do over again…"

Zack nodded weakly. "I know. It wasn't your fault." But that was the thing…it was his fault. All of it. If he hadn't been so hard on Casey, demanded to know the truth, threatened to tear the only safe world she had ever found apart, none of this would have ever happened. They never would have found her, Zack wouldn't be hurt, Wilson would be alive, Casey…well, she wouldn't be upstairs hovering in the limbo between life and death.

Zach's voice was as soft as a small child. "She slit her wrist to give me a chance to escape. She wanted me to run away and leave her, but there was no way! I couldn't leave her alone with them, even if it meant I would die too, I wasn't leaving her." He fiddled with the straps on the shoulder immobilizer, and Booth felt uncharacteristic urge to hug the boy, to comfort him, tell him it would all be alright. But it wasn't alright. Casey may never wake up, and even if she did it God only knew what kind of mental scars she would carry. She had shot her own mother! After all she had been through, what if this was the breaking point?

And her breaking point might be a moot point. She had lost a ton of blood from her wrist, even before she had been shot. As far as escape plans worked, that one had sucked. She had taken one bullet in the chest, puncturing her lung, and one in the abdomen, nicking her liver, spleen, colon, several blood vessels. Most of it had been repaired, the spleen had been removed, and the blood vessels patched up, but she had lost a lot of blood. She had been in a coma for almost a week, and there was a very real chance that she might never wake up. Or if she did, she had a 40 percent chance of brain damage from lack of blood.

Her mother was dead, of course, and so was Wilson. Thomas was brain dead just waiting for his body to catch up. And Casey was…in the balance. That left Zack and Booth to try to pick up the pieces. And Zack was certainly shattered into a million pieces, with Booth only a few behind him. They sat there, side by side in the empty chapel, one seeking solace and forgiveness, one seeking something slightly more elusive. It was so quiet that Booth jumped when Zack suddenly spoke up. "Booth, will you teach me to pray?"

Booth turned to the broken boy sitting beside him, a scared kid bearing a man's pain, and looked him up and down. "I thought you didn't believe in God?"

Zack was quiet, then looked up to meet his eyes. "Casey believes. And I…I want to believe."

Booth proceeded carefully. "You want to pray for Casey to get better?"

Zack stared at the floor, and began to talk in the machine-gun manner that he had when he got nervous. "I want to pray for that, yeah, but not only for that. I want to pray that I can believe because she believes and I want to think that she's right and that there's more than this out there. I want to think that there is a place out there that she will go to if she doesn't…doesn't wake up…where she'll be safe and happy and where she will know she's loved. If I'm right and this is all there is, then she has been here for 24 years and felt nothing more than fear and pain and I don't want to believe that anymore!"

He took a breath, the last of his meager energy stores expended, and Booth spoke. "She felt more than fear and pain, Zack. She had six years of a good life. Not much, but she was happy while she was here. She loved you, and she knew she was loved." Tears leaked out of the corners of Zack's eyes and Booth realized he had been talking about her in the past tense, as if she were already dead. "I'm sorry, Zack. She's going to get better." Zack didn't respond, and Booth knew what he had to do from there. "First you put your hands together like this…"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Brennan stood in fascination at the door of the chapel, watching Booth and Zack. Was Zack actually praying? It had been stressful, but this was not what she had expected from her assistant. But while she didn't understand their superstition, she did respect Booth, and her news could wait until they were done.


	21. In the balance

When it looked like they were done, Brennan walked self-consciously into the chapel. Both men were so lost in thought that they didn't notice her until she put her hand of Booth's shoulder. Booth jumped around to see who it was and Zack let out a frightened yelp. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "Did I startle you?"

"No," grumbled Booth. "Not in the slightest!"

"Sorry," she repeated. "I just wanted to tell you guys…" She trailed off, unsure how to continue. It wasn't bad news, really, or unexpected, but she just didn't know how to tell them.

"What?" Zack demanded, his heart pounding.

"Mr. Thomas died. Went into cardiac arrest twenty minutes ago."

They looked at each other, unsure what to say. The guy was a low-life bastard who had kidnapped Casey, tried to kill them both, and provided the gun that had killed another FBI agent, shot both of them, and Casey. But that just added another in the death toll of that day. That made three now. Three down, two out of danger, one left in the balance.

Zack stood up so suddenly it threw him off balance and Dr. Brennan had to help steady him. "I-I'm going to see Casey." He slowly and painfully hobbled off.

Brennan sat down beside Booth. "How is he doing?" she asked him.

Booth shrugged. "About as well as can be expected. Anything new on Casey?"

She shook her head. "No change."

"He asked me to teach him to pray." The words came out before he realized who he was talking to, and he winced. He didn't want to get into an argument, and even more, he didn't want her to look down on Zack for seeking comfort outside areas she was comfortable with.

She didn't respond with mockery. Instead she simply asked, "Did you?"

Now, why did these scientists want to make it that simple? First Zack, now Bones. "I hope so. It's a little complicated. I told him the best I could though."

She was quiet for a moment, then said "Did it help him? Did it make him feel better?"

Booth thought. Finally, he nodded. "Yeah, I think it did."

"Then I'm glad."

Booth smiled. Brennan smiled back at him. While things may never be the same for all of them, they were in it together.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When Hodgins saw Zack hobbling into Casey's room, he quickly vacated his chair and let the younger man sit down. He hovered around for a moment, then pulled the other chairs around, put a pillow in it. "For your leg?" he suggested.

"Yeah," said Zack, allowing his friend to help him prop his leg up in the other chair. "Thanks." He shifted, trying to get comfortable, and cringed as the movement sent a stabbing bolt of pain from his foot halfway up his back. Hodgins winced in sympathy.

"Anything I can do?" he asked the injured young man. "Food, can of pop, pain meds?"

Zack shook his head. "No I'm okay. Well, relatively speaking, anyway." He noticed something sitting on the table. "What's that?"

"iPod and a docking station. Her iPod got lost in the car fire, so I got her a new one. I know how much she loved it. She did have the blue one, right?" Zack nodded, and smiled. "Anyway, Angela got her computer and put her music library on it." He stared at the small musical device to keep Zack from seeing the tears in his eyes. "They say that coma patients can hear and stuff and I thought she would want to have it here. They don't make the model she had anymore, this is the newer one. It's smaller but has more memory." He paused, trying to make his voice stronger so Zack couldn't hear the doubt in it, but he was failing. "It has a lot more memory, so I thought if you don't think she'd mind I'd put her CD collection on the computer and put those songs on here too, I just haven't had time to-"

Zack cut him off. "Hodgins…Jack, thanks. I know she appreciates it. And if she can't…" his voice cracked, so he stopped, swallowed, and finished. "…if she can't then I do."

Hodgins smiled weakly, and put a hand on Zack's uninjured shoulder. "I'll leave you two alone for a while." Then he left the room.

Zack stared at the girl in the bed for a while, taking in the three IV lines, the chest tube, miles of bandages and dozens of bruises that stood out horribly, black and purple against the too-pale skin. Her left ankle was in traction, and he had been horrified when he saw the x-rays of her foot, almost more than the rest. It had been shattered into so many pieces they had to put plates and screws in it to hold it together. She would in all likelihood limp for the rest of her life. If she ever woke up.

What horrified him so much was that she hadn't sustained an injury to her foot while he was there. That meant it had been that bad the whole time, and she had been standing on it. Actually took steps on it. The throbbing in his own leg flared again, and he couldn't imagine the pain it had caused. Somehow that had disturbed him even more than her slicing her wrist to give him time to get away.

He wished Hodgins had left the chair closer to the bed, so he could touch her. Gently lowering his mangled leg to the ground, he struggled to get his crutch under him and stood up. He was somewhat proud of himself for managing this feat, but then he got his crutch caught in the legs of the chair. Unable to regain his equilibrium, he crashed to the floor and tried to muffle a scream as a wave of pain nearly drowned him. Angela came running. "Zack, are you okay?"

Hodgins was right behind her, and he knelt beside him. "What can I do?"

"Nurse," said Zack, trying to draw in a breath around the overwhelming pain. It hurt so badly. "Morphine!"

Angela ran out to find a nurse, and Hodgins was left with Zack on the floor. He put his hands up. "Want help getting up?"

Zack felt silly, but shook his head. "I can't. Wait for the drugs?"

Hodgins nodded, and got the pillow from the chair to place under Zack's head. "What were you trying to do?"

Zack raised his head for the pillow, and relaxed as much as the pain would let him. "I wanted to touch her. I was trying to scoot the chair over, and I just fell."

Angela came rushing in, followed by the nurse carrying a syringe. As she found the IV port in Zack's arm and injected the pain medicine, she frowned. "You are supposed to be in bed!"

Zack groaned with relief as he felt the pain slowly recede. "They said I could get up. That was why the sealed off my IV with that thing and gave me a crutch, so I could go see Casey."

The nurse rolled her eyes. "That thing is called a heparin lock, and as I recall you were threatening to take a hostage if you didn't get to see her for a few minutes. And that was several hours ago."

"You threatened to take a hostage?" Angela asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's not a hostage if they're willing," he said. "She said she would push me down here in the wheelchair and barricade the door."

Hodgins snorted. "Think you can get up now?" He held out both hands and Zack took them. The nurse stood behind him and held his shoulders and Angela supported his damaged leg. Together, they managed to get him into the chair Hodgins had moved to the side of the bed and propped his leg back up. Satisfied that he could reach her hand and touch her face from there, he settled in.

"Thanks," he said to his friends and the less than happy nurse.

"Next time you feel like climbing Everest," she said to his wearily, "Can you at least hit the call bell first?" She left the room.

"Do you need anything, Zack?" Angela asked.

He started to shake his head, then had an idea. "Yeah, why don't you turn the music on?" She smiled and hit the play button on the iPod. Then she carried it over to him and set it on the nightstand.

"There," she said. "Now you can turn it off and on, and skip songs if you want." She brushed Zack's hair out of his eyes. "Just call if you need anything, okay?"

He nodded, and they were alone. His fingertip gently grazed the bruised and swollen skin of her cheek. "Maybe it's a good thing you're not awake right now. You'd be hurting even worse than I am." He leaned in close and kissed her very carefully. "Take your time. Don't wake up until the pain is better. I'll be right here the whole time." He gripped her hand tightly. "I'm not going anywhere."

He turned up the music, and smiled when he heard the song, his favorite playing. "Superman" was such an appropriate song. Even heroes have the right to bleed. And Casey had the right to sleep through the pain. Just as long as she eventually came back to him. For the first time in a week, he felt like it might be okay soon. He sat back in his chair, still holding her hand, and dozed off.

His last thought before he faded into a morphine-induced sleep was that the nurse was going to have a fight on her hands when she tried to make him go to his own room.

A/N: It's been an easy weekend to be a paramedic, so I've gotten quite a bit done on this story. It's probably going to wrap up soon, so thatnks for being along for the ride. Send feedback and let me know if you think I should keep it going, or do a sequal, or just finish it already. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Of course, they aren't mine, except for Casey. Neither is the song, "Superman" by Five For Fighting. It is, however, the song all the people at my ambulance service play when our jobs take the inevitible depressing turn.


	22. Answers

A/N: Sorry this has been so long in coming, and sorry it's so short. But really, Zack hasn't been giving much in the way of inspiration lately. Hope some of you are still with me.Please read and review!

They had finally given up on getting Zack back to his room, so a compromise was met: They would move them both to a non-private room so they could stay together, as long as Zack stayed in the bed at least half the day. Fortunately for all, he was up in the chair beside her when she let out a cry, and struggled to sit up. "Zack!" she cried.

He tried to grab her hand, but she fought him. "Casey, it's me! Calm down! You're safe!"

"Never safe," she muttered, still unable to open her eyes. "Never be safe. You have to go, she's coming, she'll get you too!"

Zack was frightened by the level of disorientation she was showing, and hit the call button. "I need a nurse, quick!"

He caught her wrists to keep her from flailing, but on a good day she was at least as strong as him, this was not a good day, and she had terror on her side. By the time the nurses got in the room, it was taking all he had to keep her from ripping out her IVs, stitches, an anything else she could get a hold of. Two nurses grabbed her arms to relieve him, and one pulled out a syringe. "Wait!" Zack exclaimed. "What is that?"

"Just a sedative," she replied dismissively, but before she could insert the needle into the medication port, Zack stopped her.

"No!" he exclaimed. "Just hold her a second, I can calm her down!"

The nurse looked irritated, but he stared back at her pitifully. "We've waited three weeks for her to wake up. Please don't knock her back out!" Without waiting for an answer, he moved back to the head of her bed. Putting a hand to her cheek, he got her to focus her attention on him. Her struggles didn't cease, but she calmed slightly. "It's okay, Casey. You're okay, I'm okay. You mom can't hurt either of us again."

She stopped fighting in degrees, and finally the nurse allowed Zack to take her now limp hand in his. "It's okay," he repeated.

She searched his eyes, as if assuring herself that he was real. "She's dead, isn't she?"

Zack looked away for a second, then met her eyes again. He nodded.

"You're okay?" He nodded again. "The others?"

Zack could no longer meet her eyes, and felt like a real coward for it. "How much do you remember?"

"They had us. Then Booth, and Wilson showed up. How did Wilson come into this? Is he still looking out for me? Is he still here? I haven't talked to him in years." His silence said it all. "He's dead, isn't he?"

"Yeah," said Zack, forcing himself to let her eyes lock on his. "He is. If it helps, he didn't suffer."

"Yeah, he did," Casey replied, staring off to the ceiling. "He tortured himself for years over letting her get away the first time." Then something occurred to her. "What about Booth? Is he dead too?"

"No!" Zack answered quickly. "He's fine. He's probably here somewhere. He's been here most of the time, worried about you. We all have been. Worried, I mean."

"My mother- Melissa's dead, isn't she?"

Suddenly, he wished she would look at him again, so he would know what that question meant. Was it a victim looking for relief from her tormentor? An abused child worried about the future? Or an orphaned child grieving? "Yeah."

"How?"

He put his hand against his forehead as if to physically ward off the question. How could he answer that? And what was the right answer? Would it be worse to know? Finally, he had to go with what he thought was the more merciful option. "Booth shot her."

Casey finally met his eyes again. "How long ago?"

That one he could answer. "It's been three weeks."

She gripped his hand tightly. "I'm sorry."

He had waited long enough for this. Ignoring her insane apology, he reached over to her, and pulled the fragile, broken woman to him. She clung to him tightly, as if he was the last sane, stable thing in her world. And, he guessed at the moment, he was.

He held her for several moments, then had to straighten when she winced from pain in her side. "Did I hurt you?" he asked anxiously.

"No," she said. "A sociopath hurt me. That was just a reminder."

He laughed, in spite of the situation. Then he had one more serious thing to add. "Look, they buried your mother two weeks ago, but if you want, I can take you there and-"

"No," she cut him off flatly. "I don't want to go there. I don't even want to know where 'there' is. Melissa is dead. I'm no more an ophan now than I was a month ago. Only now, I'm an orphan who isn't on the run from a serial killer. And why does my chart say Martina Dalton on it?"

Zack was taken aback by the venom in her voice. "It's your name, isn't it?"

She shook her head violently. "My name is Casey McKnight. Martina Dalton ahs been dead for six years."


End file.
